


Ai Laik Heda

by LexAlexAU



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Canon Universe, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 229,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexAlexAU/pseuds/LexAlexAU
Summary: This is a rewrite of the events that happened post season two, starting right after the assault on Mount Weather. It's season three as I would have liked to have seen it and as it should have been. There will be a lot of focus on the Grounder culture and their attempts to coexist with Skaikru - or lack thereof. We will get to see the ruthlessness and the burning feud between Lexa and Nia, and the softness that Lexa reserves only for Clarke. Expect drama, lust, violence, betrayal, action, war, and of course lots and lots of Clexa fluff/smut. This is the season three that we deserved to see, and hopefully it will help everyone who is reading to forget about the one we got - even just for a little while.I'll be updating every Friday, so be sure to check back! Find me on twitter @LexAlexAU and let me know what you think. Questions, comments, concerns are always welcome.- Alex





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> We're jumping right into it with this first section. Clarke is struggling with all of the emotions that are tearing her up on the inside, and I really wanted to capture that internal battle going on with her. The clear antagonist makes itself known in this section as well, and we also get to witness a Clexa reunion - though it won't be all sunshine and rainbows.

Clarke wandered aimlessly through the forest, leaves and branches crunching loudly beneath her heavy footfalls like gunshots ringing out in the silence around her. The forest was still except for her labored breathing, bordering on the lines of exhaustion and trembling with every exhale. It had been two days since she left Camp Jaha behind, also leaving behind any trace of the person she once was, moving through the trees as nothing more than a shadow, a breath, a ghost, of the innocent girl who had landed on the drop ship. That girl was dead; marred and warped by every action and decision she had taken part in since she first set foot on the ground, her heart and soul blackened by the death she’d seen. The death she’d wrought. Leaving behind nothing but a living carcass, moving and drawing breath, but dead and rotting on the inside.

Even as she breathed the open air, she felt as if she was suffocating, a weight far greater than she could ever bear crushing down on her chest as if Mount Weather itself deigned to squeeze the life from her body. Her heart had been shattered when she pulled that lever with Bellamy, killing all three hundred of those people within the mountain. She had killed innocent children, mothers and wives, fathers and sons. When she closed her eyes, she could still see their burnt and bubbling faces, soaked with radiation, their eyes glazed over in death, dull and lifeless as they stared into the empty void of space and time. Grief tugged at her insides, reaching out and clawing at her with razor-sharp talons, demanding to be felt, to be unleashed.

Her thoughts drifted just as aimlessly as her direction, the images of the dead flooding her mind as if a dam had broken, unleashing the nightmares upon her in a never ending torrent. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she could not look back. She could not stand to see her people, reminding her every day that they were alive because she had pulled that lever, had sacrificed hundreds of lives to save forty-two. Forty-two of the people she had grown with, forty-two she had survived with, forty-two faces to remind her that she bears the weight of those she sacrificed so that they don’t have to. 

They would never know what she gave up to save them, what pieces inside of her were ripped away as she ripped three hundred lives from this earth with one simple motion. They could never understand; nobody would ever understand. Except maybe one...

Haunting green eyes flashed in Clarke's mind, harboring so much weight that one felt heavier just by looking into them. Eyes that had seen unimaginable terrors, cold, broken, tender eyes filled with so much longing that Clarke's heart ached at just the thought of holding the unrelenting gaze of...

No. She pushed the thought aside, chasing green eyes away and replacing them again with the lifeless and blank expressions of those she'd let die in the mountain. She could not let herself linger on the wave of emotions that those green eyes evoked within her; those conflicting feelings, blurred between the lines of hate and longing, would surely be her undoing.

It had been days since Clarke’s last meal, and her stomach groaned in protest, roaring with anger as it churned upon itself, but even as her insides growled, she had no appetite. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d had a meal, or even had water to drink and she knew that her body was suffering from the effects of dehydration. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked from lack of moisture, even her pores seemed to refuse to sweat. But she had no desire to eat or drink, no desire to sleep or rest. Instead she wandered, empty, hollow, like dust on the gentle wind.

Her blonde hair stuck to the back of her neck, tangled and caked on by heat and dirt and days of grime. The weight of her handgun in its holster pressed heavily against her side, and she was vaguely aware of its presence, as if death itself was strapped to her waist. Her pants were ripped and torn in places where they had snagged the underbrush and she knew that the dried branches had snagged at her skin as well, ripping holes in her flesh that resembled the holes in her heart, but she didn’t care. Her white shirt had faded to a shade of brown and hung off her shoulders, no longer fitting as snuggly as it had two days ago. She could feel blisters through her socks, the calluses welling up and bursting as her heavy boots pressed tightly around her feet.

It seemed as if her entire body was being stripped away piece by piece, her life flowing away from her with every step, and yet she trudged on leaving the pieces of herself scattered through the empty forest. She couldn’t bring herself to stop or to care, and she felt as if her entire being, all that had once been Clarke Griffin, had already unraveled the moment she pulled that lever. Her humanity had been undone, leaving behind nothing but a fragment of a shell and a black, cold, broken heart, filled with so much anger and self-loathing that it could burst and burn through her chest as if it were made of searing hot acid.

When her feet finally shuffled to a stop in the midst of fallen leaves and coarse underbrush, Clarke found herself face to face with a thick metal hatch, the door hanging limply on its hinges as if propped open and waiting for her, beckoning to her in the silence of the late afternoon. The shadow of Mount Weather loomed high above her, the dark entrance to the underground bunker still and motionless. The air was thick and the ground in front of her was stained with blood, the events that occurred here soaking into the earth the way a burn soaks into skin, hot and tender and lingering. She held her breath, waiting in anticipation, as if expecting someone to emerge from the mountain, but she knew that all who had lived within its walls were now dead, their lives forever snuffed out by her own hand.

All who had been captured and held against their will had been freed, and all that remained were the ghosts of the past. The same ghosts who haunted Clarke’s dreams every night, the same ghosts who called to her in her sleep and whispered to her as she woke. She could feel them there, stagnant in the air, stale and sad, and scared, and so, so angry. They lingered, as if waiting for her, reaching out to her and attempting to drag her down into the never-ending darkness with them.

A guttural sob ripped through Clarke's chest, throaty and rasping, trembling against her lips as if struggling to free itself. She snapped a hand over her mouth, pinching her nose and doing all that she could not to disturb the silence with her grief. The specters that watched her from deep within the shadows would never know that she was already consumed with darkness, swallowing her whole, violently and relentlessly. 

She felt the harsh sting of anger in herself, knowing that the last time she had stood in this very same spot, she had watched Lexa disappear into the night, taking her Grounder army with her and leaving Clarke and her people to die. The image of a gentle but burning, almost desperate, kiss flashed through Clarke’s mind, but she quickly pushed it out. The pain of that betrayal hurt almost as bad as the actions that it had led to, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Lexa had stayed, would things have turned out differently? Would she have been able to spare the people of Mount Weather? Would she still have the blood of hundreds of innocent lives on her hands?

The thought was too much to bear and tears welled in her eyes, stinging sharply as if they were allergic to the moisture, cutting clear paths through the dirt on her cheeks as they spilled over and fell from her chin. Clarke dropped to her knees beneath the weight of her screaming emotions, her legs giving out beneath her as all her remaining energy seemed to be zapped from her body. She buried her face in her hands as uncontrollable sobs wracked through her core, no longer having the strength to contain them, feeling as though a fist was closing tightly around her heart and squeezing until it popped.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice nothing more than a raspy croak from disuse, sticking dryly in the back of her throat. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, over and over, willing the ghosts within the bunker to hear her. Willing the specters to see her grief and grant her some sort of reprieve from her pain and anguish that she knew would never come while she still drew breath.

She waited, half expecting an answer, wondering if the spirits that danced behind her eyes would come forward and drag her into the depths of the mountain. She willed them to, allowing herself for a moment to imagine how easy it would be to disappear into the darkness and let the light remain in the world behind her. The light was for the living, for those who could greet the day, not those who attempted to flee from it. But instead, all that stared back at her was the very same darkness that gripped every fiber of her soul, tearing her apart from the inside out.

When she couldn’t bear the unrelenting silence any longer, she rose to her feet, her joints popping in protest as if they ached to remain frozen in the shadow of the mountain. Her bones were heavy, turning to stone beneath her skin, reaching out and anchoring her to the ground, trying to force her to stay face to face with her demons. Instead, she drifted back towards the tree line, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get away from the depths of that deep, black, empty, tunnel. She spared one last glance backwards, the hair on her arms standing on end in the eerie glow of dusk as if to remind her that this place was now nothing more than a tomb and she forced herself not to picture all the bodies that laid within, motionless from the moment she stole their last breaths.

Once she moved into the trees, the hatch filtering out of view, she felt as if she could breathe again, and again her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten in days. The early autumn sun dipped just below the mountain, casting the forest in a hazy orange that looked as if it could catch fire and burn through the night. The leaves had begun to change from green to yellow and brown, still barely clinging to the trees, and Clarke thought that they reminded her of herself; life fading and just hanging on, waiting for one strong gust to send them floating down, down, down. She imagined that her insides looked as brown and sour as those leaves, drying out and ready to fade away into nothingness.

She knew that it was too late in the evening to search for food, and that darkness would soon envelop the forest, leaving her without sight. The air was starting to turn a bitter cold and she could feel that the summer was ending, making way for autumn. The nights had grown colder, and Clarke did not want to go another evening without a fire, shivering beneath the moonlit trees, so she set to work gathering firewood. She knew shelter was out of the question, the only places of refuge in this area of the woods were Mount Weather and the mining tunnels that the Reapers had used to snake beneath it, both of which she never again wished to enter.

She scrounged up enough wood for a fire, snapping twigs off low hanging trees and stacking the branches in a teepee to allow adequate oxygen flow to the base of her miniature pyre. Then she collected a bundle of dried leaves, small twigs, and a piece of a fallen bird’s nest, balling them together to create a flammable wad of tinder. She used her knowledge from Earth Skills, setting the tinder on a flattened strip of bark and spinning a sharpened stick between her palms to create as much friction as possible, hoping that an ember would catch life.

Clarke started at the top of the stick, bearing down on it with some of her body weight, and twirling down the shaft of the branch as quickly as her hands could manage. It wasn’t long before blisters began to bubble up on the tender flesh of her palms, yet not even a single puff of smoke wafted up from her dormant nest of dried leaves. She cursed under her breath, realizing for the first time that she had not started a fire herself since they’d been on the ground. She'd gone over it again and again in the Earth Skills class that the council had required them to take before sending them down on the Drop Ship, yet she had never once put theory to practice on Earth. There had always been someone else to do that for her while she busied herself with matters of life and death. Now she was sorely wishing that she had spent more time learning to survive and less time trying to keep everyone else alive.

The sky turned a deep shade of blue by the time Clarke gave up; her hands were numb and bleeding and her breath came out in dense puffs of white in the biting cold. She rolled onto her back and brought her knees to her chest, trying desperately to conserve as much of her body heat as possible, shivering against herself in the unrelenting darkness. The half-moon dimly lit the forest around her and she stared up at the stars through the breaks in the treetops as a pang of homesickness shot through the deepest dredges of her heart. Not homesickness for the Ark, but for the peace she had once known before the blood of hundreds stained her hands and twisted around her heart like a noose, choking the life from her body.

When exhaustion finally overtook her, she felt her eyes pulling closed even as she struggled to keep them open, watching the breath from her trembling blue lips float up and away. She drifted off beneath the pale moonlight as the shadow of the mountain loomed over her, stoic and cold and haunting. But she did not drift peacefully.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke’s mind wandered as aimlessly in sleep as it did in her waking hours, floating from one image to the next, until settling on one. She was in the forest, the trees silent and still around her as if time itself had stopped, freezing the world in that exact moment. The dried leaves that drifted downward from the branches above stopped in midair, a bird’s wings halted in mid flight, a yellow and black butterfly hovered in front of her face but remained immobile. The sun was dipped low in the sky, filtering down in thick orange beams of light from the treetops above. The only thing in the entire forest that moved was Clarke as she shifted along, taking in the silence and the calm, feeling for the first time in weeks like the world was at peace. 

She heard the sounds of a popping fire coming from a distance away, and she followed them, moving like a gentle breeze through the trunks of the trees. As she neared the source of the noise, she could see the Drop Ship peeking through the woods just in front of her. A bonfire was lit, casting orange and yellow shadows across the surface of the cool metal ship; they bobbed and danced playfully as if jumping to a slow beat. A dark figure stood beside the fire, and she couldn’t quite make out who it was until she was standing directly across from him in the clearing, the flames lighting his features.

Clarke felt her heart jump up in her chest, and she could barely believe her eyes. “Wells?” she gasped, breathing his name as if it was a question. He wore simple blue jeans and a form-fitting black shirt, holding his hands over the fire as he tried to melt the ice in his bones.

He looked up at her and smiled, his brown eyes warm and welcoming and full of so much love. “Where ya’ been, Clarke?” he asked, his voice deep and playful, and he looked so natural and utterly at ease.

She knew she must have been dreaming because somewhere in the back of her hazy mind she remembered that Wells was dead, so he couldn’t possibly be standing before her, beaming her a thousand watt smile. But she didn’t care. In that moment, she was so overjoyed to see him that she forgot all the pain that had been eating away at her, killing her from the inside out. She let genuine happiness flow through every inch of her body, making her feel light and airy and free. 

Clarke rushed forward, barreling into Wells’ chest like a cannon ball as she threw her arms around him, feeling tears pulling sharply behind her eyes. He lifted her off her feet, spinning her in circles through the air before gently setting her back down. She did not loosen her grip on him, resting her head against his warm, solid, chest and listening to the steady thrumming of his heart, clinging to him as if he was her lifeline to the world. “I miss you so much,” she whispered. 

His arms were still around her, but he did not reply. She felt him gasp sharply as if startled by something and she pulled quickly away from his chest, looking up to see what had shocked him. His eyes were wide and glazed over, and an expression of bewilderment twisted on his face as a deep puncture wound opened up over his jugular, seemingly out of nowhere as if a phantom knife had deigned to drain the life from him. Crimson red blood began flowing out in unabated torrents, hot and sticky and smelling of iron and death and rust.

Blood poured down his neck and chest, soaking his white shirt and spraying over Clarke’s face and hands as she reached up to staunch the wound. “Help me,” he sputtered, choking his words out through surges of warm blood.

“Wells!” Clarke shouted, voice cracking and their moment of peace and tranquility shattered, leaving behind nothing but pain and chaos. Moments of peace on the ground never lasted long. “No, stay with me!”

She pressed her hands to his throat, trying with all her strength to hold his blood inside his body, desperately attempting to plug the wound with her bare flesh, willing her fingers to close the gap. Only her hands weren’t on Wells’ neck anymore, they were on Finn’s chest, gripping a hidden knife and pulling it from deep between his ribs.

A fire roared beside them and the red flames flickered against Finn’s sweat soaked brow, his long brown hair falling in waves around the frame of his square jawline. She felt his body go slack in her arms, the entirety of his weight held in place by the ropes that tethered him to a pole. His eyes met Clarkes and she watched as he breathed his last shallow breath, his gaze going blank with death as blood pooled thick through his shirt and down his abdomen. Behind them, she could hear the shrill sound of Raven screaming, screaming, _screaming_. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, failing to choke back the throaty sob that had gathered in her voice. “I’m so sorry.”

Clarke turned away from his limp body, unable to bear the sight any longer as she felt thick bile rising in her throat. But when she turned, she came face to face with haunting green eyes, framed in streaming black war paint, years of wisdom hidden within them. She stopped abruptly in her tracks, heart fluttering uncontrollably in her chest as she looked into the solemn, flawless, face of the Commander.

“Lexa,” she breathed, and for a moment Clarke thought that the nightmare was finally coming to an end, the warmth that the other woman evoked within her chasing the dream away.

And then she realized what was about to come next. A battle raged on around them, gunfire ringing out as the Mountain Men tried to hold off the grounder assault on their cement stronghold. Lincoln had just blown the hatch open with a stick of dynamite, and they were waiting for the Commander’s word to charge. Bodies littered the ground in front of the door and they were taking heavy casualties, but they had managed to disable the Mount Weather security measures; all that was left was to storm the gates and rescue the prisoners being held inside.

Lexa stared at Clarke, pain swelling behind those forest green eyes, vast and endless and swimming with all the things unsaid between them. She looked soft and hardened at the same time, strong yet broken, beautiful yet so, so deadly. She was everything all at once, and yet she could be nothing at all. She was life; a protector, a savior; and she was death, a warrior, and as ruthless as she was beautiful.

The Commander straightened her posture, holding her chin high and steeling her nerves behind the mask of thick black war paint. “I’m sorry, Clarke,” she said, her voice stone and not to be questioned, jawline rigid. “But I made this decision with my head and not with my heart.”

With that, Lexa turned away, taking her army, her people, and all hope with her, leaving Clarke and the forty-two in Mount Weather to their fates. Even in her dream, Clarke could feel her heart shattering again as she watched the Commander fade into the night. Panic tore through her chest and she tried to move, tried to go after her, but it was as if her feet were cemented to the ground.

“Lexa!” Clarke screamed, her voice filled with desperation. “Lexa, wait!” she pleaded, knowing that what comes next would destroy her world. What this moment had led to…

She reached out, closing her eyes and willing Lexa to turn around and take her by the hand, begging with every fiber of her being for things to be different. But, somewhere in Clarke’s subconscious mind she reminded herself that this was a dream, a memory, and that what she did next would never change. When she opened her eyes again, her hand was not in Lexa’s, but instead it was on a lever.

Bellamy stood beside her, and they watched on the monitor as their friends and loved ones were tortured, being drained of their bone marrow. Monty sat at a computer behind them, hacking into the Mount Weather fail-safe system to allow Clarke manual override. On another screen, the citizens of Mount Weather sat around dining tables eating dinner and lost in conversation, oblivious to the fact that their lives rested in the hands of an eighteen year old girl with no way out and only one way forward.

“Together,” Bellamy whispered, his deep brown eyes flooded with trepidation as his hand closed over Clarke’s, shaking and unsteady, and together they pulled the lever.

Clarke stared at the monitor screen, looking on in horror as radiation seeped through the vents into the mess hall where all three hundred Mountain Men gathered. She could hear their screams echoing off the cold cement walls as their flesh bubbled and burst and their lungs melted within their chests, burning quickly and without reprieve the way dried leaves are devoured by flames. She watched as hundreds of men, women, and children, innocent little children, took their last agonizing breaths.

And then the dream shattered.

Clarke sat straight up, gasping for air as the weight of grief crushed down on her chest like an anvil, heavy and unrelenting. She rolled over and dry heaved, nothing in her stomach but bile to toss up, and yet her body tried and tried to purge until tears streamed down her face and snot welled in her nose. She sobbed, feeling the pain of three hundred souls gripping and tearing at her heart, and in that moment she wished that she had died in that mountain with all those people, so that the pain would just end.

She struggled for air, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as she tried to lower her racing heart rate. White spots popped behind her vision as the world spun around her and she could tell that dehydration was draining the energy from her body. Her throat burned and her veins pounded, a steady thrumming right behind her eyes as if a war drum beat loudly to the rhythm of her aching heart.

When she felt like she could breathe again, she pulled her knees into her chest and buried her face within them; letting sobs wrack her bones as the last bit of her moisture flowed from her body in the form of unrelenting tears. It was just before dawn, the sky a deep shade of purple and pink as the sun began to peek over the horizon, too early to rise yet she knew sleep would not find her again.

Clarke did not hear the footsteps approaching from behind her until they were nearly on top of her. “You, girl,” a gruff voice called, and Clarke whirled around, instantly shooting to her feet.

The world spun and swayed as she rose too quickly, the pounding in her head picking up and she thought that she might collapse, but when her vision cleared, she saw a man before her. He wore gray and white fur armor, shrouding thickly over his shoulders as if it was the dead of winter. His bare arms were covered in white war paint, his face etched deeply with rugged scars. A black mane of hair grew unruly down to his shoulders, his mouth hidden behind a thick, wiry beard. As Clarke stared at him, she realized the scars lining his bold cheekbones were not from battle, but carved into his face intentionally and with purpose like a brand. 

“You’re Ice Nation,” she said, her voice cracking and barely audible behind chapped lips. She recognized the marks of _Azgeda_ from one of the generals she had met at Lexa’s war councils while they were planning their attack on Mount Weather. 

“And you are _Skaikru_ ,” the man replied, eyeing the gun at her side with disdain as if it carried some sort of deadly disease. 

She hadn’t even realized it, but Clarke’s hand was hovering over the pistol at her waist, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The man stood about three feet in front of her, white knuckles gripping the hilt of his sword in its sheath, eyes drifting from Clarke’s hand to her face and back. “What do you want?” Clarke asked, feeling the threat in her voice.

The man looked her up and down again, as if measuring her. “I seek Clarke of the Sky People, Mountain slayer, legendary _Wanheda_ , Commander of Death,” he replied, and Clarke nearly choked at the list of titles.

Commander of Death. Fitting, she thought. From the moment the Drop Ship landed, she had been struggling to survive, fighting to keep her people alive, running from chaos and death that seemed to be nipping ever closely at their heels. And now she commanded it. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and had she any bile left in her stomach, she probably would have lost it at the thought of wielding death.

“Why do you seek her?” she questioned, letting her hand close around the pistol at her side.

The man caught her movement, yet did not back away. He stood there, rooted in place, fearless in the face of death as if challenging her. “My queen wills it,” he replied ever so vaguely. The Ice Queen, Clarke recognized. The woman who had murdered Lexa’s former love in cold blood, and Clarke felt a thick, dry, swallow get stuck in her throat.

“Well, tell your queen that Clarke of the Sky People, Mountain slayer, legendary _Wanheda_ , is dead,” Clarke spat as if the titles tasted sour, masking her trepidation behind a wall of sarcasm.

The Ice Nation warrior stared at her for what seemed like a full minute before letting out a deep sigh and turning away. “Very well,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared back into the trees.

Clarke watched him leave, holding her breath, listening to the sounds of his fading footsteps. For the first time in days, fear gripped her, sending a cold chill down her spine that had her hair standing on end. When she was sure he was gone, she let herself breathe again, allowing her hand to fall away from the handgun at her side.

The moment she let her guard down, the bushes in front of her exploded, and the Ice Nation warrior was on her, wrapping his hands around her throat and smothering the scream that had built in her chest. His blue eyes were as cold as ice as he tightened his grip, choking the life from Clarke’s lungs as he lifted her off the ground by her neck. She hadn’t noticed before, but he was a mountain of a man, easily holding her two feet above the ground, nostrils flaring and teeth gritted beneath his thick black beard.

Clarke pounded on his arms with closed fists, kicking her legs into his stomach as she struggled to free herself from his grasp, but she could feel herself losing consciousness. His grip only tightened, as if he was aiming to snap her neck with the sheer strength of his hands alone. With every last bit of energy in her body, she reached for the gun at her waist, fingers fumbling with the safety as they found their way to the trigger. She pulled it, the pistol still in its holster, and a shot rang out as a spatter of warm blood sprayed up from the ground and the bullet sunk into the warrior’s boot.

He let out a guttural shriek and Clarke dropped to the ground, choking and gasping for air as life flowed back into her lungs. She breathed deeply as she scrambled to her feet, darting into the trees without a second glance back. The Grounder’s howls of pain from behind her ceased and turned into the sounds of thundering uneven footfalls as he pursued her, limping after her into the forest.

Clarke ran. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her, still struggling to get breath into her body as she scurried in between trees and low hanging branches. She didn’t know where she was going or what direction she was fleeing in, only that she had to put as much distance between her and the Ice Nation warrior as possible. She sprinted, the undergrowth tearing at her legs and arms, slicing through fabric and flesh as she dove through bushes, feeling the warm tinge of blood flow down her bare skin.

With each glance back, it looked as if the Grounder had moved closer and closer, even with his wounded foot. He was quickly closing the distance and Clarke cursed at herself for not having drank or eaten anything in days. She could feel her energy weaning, her muscles screaming in protest, her body fighting against her mind and her willpower, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out for.

She burst through the tree line, stumbling onto the banks of a stream, and falling head first into the water before she could catch herself. She picked herself up and dragged herself back onto the shore, begging her legs to work, pleading with her body to just keep moving. But before she could rise, the Grounder was on her again, pinning her down beneath his tremendous weight.

Clarke reached for her gun again, but the warrior caught her right wrist in his hand and pinned it beneath his left knee before again constricting his massive grip around her throat once more. He squeezed, this time with blood raging in his wild eyes, as he choked the life out of her. Clarke was helpless, her weak struggles futile against his immense size and strength, and she was so small and so broken and so utterly defeated.

She looked past his face, contorted with anger and bloodlust, to the clear blue sky above them, and she realized that this was the moment of her death. She would die here, right now, at the hands of this savage man. All the fear that she had felt as she fled from him faded away, and in that instant she felt at peace. She felt as if justice was being done. As if this was the death that she deserved.

And then, out of nowhere, the whistle of something sliced through the air, and an arrow was protruding from her murderer’s neck. His raging gaze went wide with surprise; grip on her loosening as the life drained from his eyes and his body slumped to the side. Clarke tried to roll from beneath him, but all her strength had finally left her. She was nothing but an empty shell again, staring into the deep blue sky as black spots crowded her vision and the world began to fade away.

“Tell the Commander we found her!” she heard a familiar voice call as darkness swept over her, carrying her swiftly into the void.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The threads of consciousness tugged at the edges of Clarke’s mind as if pulling her from a heavy rolling fog. The dim light of a fire flickered through her eyelids and she barely registered a dull, yet steady, pounding in her head, pulsing evenly and without end. The world around her seemed far away as she listened to the sound of the popping fire, muffled like hearing gunshots from beneath gallons of water. She willed herself to open her eyes but her body was so, so weak, and it would have been so satisfying just to let herself drift back into oblivion, untethered and floating through space. 

Lost in the haze between sleep and reality, Clarke remembered the snarling and twisted face of a Grounder as he choked the air from her lungs, squeezing the life from her body like wringing water from a wet towel. In a wave of panic, her senses flooded back to her, pulling her from the fog as her eyes snapped open, bright blue against the red of burst blood vessels. She glanced around wildly, searching for the Grounder who had aimed to take her life.

She was in a clearing, the night sky peeking through breaks in the canopy above her, stars flickering deep into the dusty purple brim of the galaxy. A small fire smoldered beside her, radiating heat like a blanket across her bare skin. The Ice Nation warrior that had attacked her was nowhere in sight, and a vague memory of an arrow sinking deep into the flesh of his neck flashed through Clarke’s mind.  
It took every ounce of strength in her body to push herself up onto her elbows, wondering at the identity of her mystery savior. 

A woman sat across the fire from her, the dim light casting long shadows across her stony features. Her black hair was cropped short and a deep scar ran along the side of her face, rugged against her smooth brown skin. She wore traditional Grounder armor, pieces of metal and fur twisting and tied in various straps and sections across her chest, back, and forearms. Her pensive brown eyes remained focused on Clarke, analyzing, but she could tell that the seasoned warrior was aware of every inch of their surroundings, her hand resting on the hilt of a blade in her lap.

“Indra?” Clarke tried to speak, but her voice was lost deep in her swollen and bruised throat. Suddenly, she became very aware of the fire that burned in her throat and lungs, searing as if she had swallowed hot coals. “Water,” she whispered, giving in to her body’s primal needs for the first time in days. She choked on her words again, sending her into a fit of coughing that ached and scratched with every breath she drew like a knife had been lodged in her windpipe.

“Do not move, Sky Girl,” Indra commanded, setting her blade aside to fumble with a canteen. “Your body is weak.” She moved to sit above Clarke, pressing the canteen to her lips.

The water was cool in Clarke’s mouth, dousing the fire on her tongue like the first rainfall after a long drought. She choked on the liquid as it stuck in her swollen throat, sending her into another wave of agonizing dry coughs. Now that water had finally passed her lips, it was torture not to be able to gulp down torrents to smother the blaze that raged in her body and blood, dehydration pounding like a hammer behind her eyes.

“Slowly,” Indra snapped as if scolding a child. She cupped Clarke’s head in her strong hand and tried again, gently tipping the canteen to her lips.

This time, Clarke took a small amount, letting it swish around on her tongue before allowing a few drops to trickle down the back of her throat. The motion of swallowing ached like a broken bone, but the moment that water flowed through her wounded esophagus, Clarke felt a rush of instantaneous relief. She drank slowly and carefully for what felt like an hour until she had finally had her fill. Instantly the aching in her head seemed to drum just a bit softer.

When Indra lifted the water jug away and took up her position across the fire again, Clarke found the strength to sit up. “What happened?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper, but stronger than before nonetheless. If Indra had heard her, she did not acknowledge, remaining still and stoic as her ever-diligent eyes scanned the trees around them as if she were waiting for someone to arrive.

“Why did you save me?” Clarke tried again with a different question. 

The grounders had abandoned them at Mount Weather, leaving Clarke and her people to die. She had watched as Indra, as Lexa, had turned their backs on their alliance and retreated into the night. Clarke’s heart ached at the thought of Lexa and the reaction was uncontrollable, betraying her body and mind. She pushed the pain of longing aside and quickly replaced it with anger.

“Why—

“ _Shof op, Skai Gada!_ ” Indra snapped, cutting Clarke off before she could ask another question. “You speak too much.”

Clarke glared at the Grounder, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave her in the past just as she had left the Sky People at Mount Weather. But her body was too weak and her mind too fragile, and she could feel her energy weaning, on the verge of collapsing back into unconsciousness. The days without food or water had left her drained; teetering on the edge of shutting down, and the beating she had taken had tipped her over that edge. Deep in the hidden parts of her heart, she felt that she deserved it. That this was her punishment, and she had to accept it with open arms.

Clarke rolled over, putting her back to the _Trikru_ warrior and letting despair flood her heart again. For whatever reason, Indra had saved her. She was alive while three hundred innocent people were dead, and the thought was almost too much to bear.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Clarke woke some time later, the sun was over head, the dew hanging thick in the morning light, reflecting like millions of tiny stars against the green leaves of the trees. Birds flitted from tree to tree, calling to each other in excited whistles, giving melody to the silent air. The fire beside her had burned itself out, leaving behind a pile of smoldering ash. She shivered, a gentle wind shifting through the cool autumn air, carrying with it the scent of smoke and pine. 

Clarke glanced to the spot where Indra had been perched the night before and found it empty. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up slowly, her body still weak from the attack and complete lack of nourishment. The noise of someone softly clearing their throat from behind her had her shoulders tensing, and she figured it was Indra coming back from patrolling the woods nearby. When she turned, her heart leaped into her throat as if trying to jump right out of her chest, pulling the breath from her lungs in a sharp gasp.

Lexa sat behind her, legs crossed as she leaned against the base of a tree, twirling her dagger in hand the way she had the first time Clarke had ever laid eyes on her. She wore tight black pants, boots strapped up to her knees, and a long sleeved gray shirt hung loosely off her shoulders. She carried her sword in its scabbard across her back, the hilt peeking up over her shoulder, but her face bore no makeup and her deep brown hair fell in loose waves down her shoulders. Her sun kissed skin was smooth and Clarke thought she looked out of place sitting there, someone so perfect amidst a world of so much pain.

Clarke scolded herself for the way that her body ached to stand and throw herself into this girls arms. She despised the feeling of warmth that washed over her when all that she wanted to do was remain cold and hard. She loathed the way her heart shouted with joy while her brain screamed in protest. She remained still, frozen in place and trapped somewhere between the muddled grips of hate and desire.

The last time Clarke had seen the Commander, she had worn armor and running black war paint, a red cape flowing majestically from an intricate metal shoulder guard. Everything about her had commanded attention, but right now, she looked nothing but vulnerable and raw. She sat stoically, the picture of strength and beauty, but her green eyes betrayed the nerves that she was trying so desperately to hide behind a mask of calm. Her spine was rigid, her expression hard, yet Clarke could see the subtle clenching of her jaw just below her high cheekbones.

“Hello, Clarke,” she spoke, her voice as calm as her appearance. The same voice that sent chills down Clarke’s spine and lit a raging fire in her chest all at once.

Clarke stared at her, blinking a few more times to make sure that she was not trapped in another haunting dream. Lexa returned her gaze, her expression impassive on her sharp and impeccable features. In that moment, Clarke felt a rush of emotions: resentment at Lexa for leaving her behind; hatred at the betrayal and what it led to; pain at thinking that Lexa could have cared enough to keep her word. 

And simple, sweet, relief. Relief that watching Lexa fade into the ranks of her army at Mount Weather was not the last moment they would ever share; Relief that despite all that had happened between their two people, Lexa was still here and still real. Clarke despised herself for feeling that rush of relief, and maybe even a spark of happiness buried deep beneath all her anger and all her biting, gnawing, ripping pain. 

Clarke felt tears tugging at her eyes as she forced herself to her feet, ignoring the screaming protests of her muscles. Lexa watched her intently, never once looking away, but she did not speak again; would not speak again until she knew that Clarke was ready to hear it. Instead, she remained silent while Clarke glared at her with enough hurt and enough pain that her heart was practically visible as it broke and twisted in her chest. A solemn tear escaped from her sky blue gaze, snaking slowly down her cheek before Clarke brushed it away with the back of her trembling hand.

Unable to hold the Commander’s gaze any longer, unable to contain the emotions that stormed in her, whirling around like a tornado, unable to sit still when all she wanted to do was disappear, Clarke put her back to Lexa and dragged her aching body into the forest. She did not have to look back to know that Lexa had followed, moving behind her like a shadow, but allowing her the space that she needed. The distance between them sparked with tension, thrumming and present in the atmosphere like a brewing storm.

Clarke could feel her composure slowly unraveling as if all that had tethered her to sanity had come undone the moment that she saw Lexa. Her heart pounded so heavy in her ears that she thought it might have been the sound of war drums beating at the start of a battle. Her stomach ached and twisted, not with hunger, but as if it was tying itself in knots to keep from losing the bile that had welled up in the back of her throat. Her soul, every fiber of the deepest dredges of her being, felt as if it was blazing, burning so hot that all that would be left of her was a pile of ash on the wind. Clarke was a candle in a hurricane and Lexa… Lexa was the storm. 

When she could no longer contain herself, no longer force her emotions behind the stone wall she had built up, the dam crumbled, taking her composure along with it. Clarke whirled around on Lexa, her blue eyes burning and brimmed red with the tears that poured like heavy rainfall down her cheeks. She closed the space between them in two long strides, standing face to face with Lexa, their gazes meeting in a clash of blue and green: the sky meeting the earth; a lightning strike meeting the trees, catching the whole forest ablaze with ravenous fire.

Their faces were just inches from each other now. “Why?” Clarke whispered, her voice still harsh and broken from the hands that had tried to wring the life from her.

They were so close that their knees touched and their chests brushed against each other, the distance between them vibrating with friction that was almost tangible in the air. Lexa’s face was unreadable, but Clarke could see her choking back the pain that had pooled in her luminous green eyes. Somehow they looked even brighter behind a well of unshed tears; tears that Clarke knew would never fall.

“I had no choice, Clarke,” she replied. She tentatively reached for Clarke’s hand, willing her to see, pleading her to understand. 

Clarke ripped her hand away from Lexa’s touch the moment their fingers brushed together as if they were made of the sun itself. “No!” she said, as loudly as her damaged voice would allow. “You had a choice,” she stammered. “You chose to leave me, Lexa.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa whispered, and for the first time ever, Clarke could see regret written plainly across her normally unreadable features. The Commander’s shoulders fell and it looked as if she was physically crumbling under the weight of her crushing guilt.

For a moment, the world stood still, falling silent around them as if the entire forest was holding its breath, waiting on edge to see what would come next. They held each other’s gazes, neither willing to move or even breathe. And then the faces of the dead came rushing back to Clarke, all three hundred, lifeless and empty and bubbling beneath radiation as it tore through their bodies. 

“No,” Clarke whispered again.

She shoved Lexa away, wanting nothing more than to put distance between them, though the Commander was hardly fazed by the sudden outburst. But the distance did nothing to satisfy the pain tearing through Clarke’s body, raging and crashing uncontrollably like whitecaps on the ocean in the midst of a storm. Just as quickly as she had pushed the Commander away, she closed the gap between them. Her hands buried themselves in the folds of Lexa’s shirt, pushing her hard against the trunk of a tree with enough force to draw breath from Lexa’s lungs. 

Clarke shoved her again, this time with a closed fist, pounding heavily into the Commander’s chest as a guttural sob ripped through her body. Lexa’s eyes remained focused on Clarke, not once attempting to move from beneath the fists and open palms that were forcing her back against the immovable trunk. She shoved her again and again until her energy weaned and she was gasping for breath, and yet Lexa made no attempt to fight back or to stop her.

She stood there, taking the beating, crashing back against the solid oak, over and over and over again. Tears flowed like rivers from Clarke’s blue eyes as she poured every ounce of anger and pain from her body and threw it against Lexa; as if trying to force her burden and the weight of the deaths she carried onto the one person she knew could handle them. And Lexa let her, gladly taking whatever Clarke needed to give her. 

When the last bit of energy left her, Lexa caught Clarke’s wrists in her hands, pulling her tightly to her chest and wrapping her in her strong frame. Clarke struggled against the other girl, but her strength had fled and she was helpless in Lexa’s firm embrace. After a moment, she felt herself give in, burying her face in the space between Lexa’s neck and shoulder. 

She had forgotten what it was like to be so near to another person, and it was as if being this close to Lexa, warm and safe in her arms, gave her a guideline back to the world of the living. She sobbed against the Commander’s chest for a long while, her voice raspy and tortured with emotional agony, exhaustion, and actual physical pain. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Clarke was ashamed. She knew that she should have never laid a hand on Lexa like that, but this person that she had become was wild and uncontrollable, ruled by her raging emotions rather than her sense of rationality.

It was as if the Commander had been reading her thoughts when she whispered “It’s okay, Clarke,” so quietly that her words could have been a trick of the wind. “I’m here now.”

“I hate you,” Clarke breathed, clinging to the last bit of anger in her body.

“I know,” Lexa replied, but made no attempt to argue or explain or plead. She simply accepted responsibility for what she’d done, and understood that she could not change it.

Clarke hated the person she had become. She hated the things that she had done to save her people and she hated the way that it had twisted and torn at her insides. She hated the unrecognizable heap of a human being that her decisions had warped her into, and she hated that she blamed herself. But what she hated most out of everything was that she didn’t actually hate Lexa. Not even a little. Not even at all. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Do you know what I did in that mountain?” Clarke asked. Her blue eyes had dried, but were still on the verge of welling. She sat propped against the same tree that she’d backed Lexa into over and over again. The battle of emotions that had been raging inside of her had come to a ceasefire, leaving her drained of energy. She was dizzy and very much aware of the throbbing behind her eyes and the consistent aching of her empty stomach, though she had lost all appetite at the sight of Lexa and the tidal wave of feelings she brought on.

The Commander sat beside her, knees tucked to her chest, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her body in the cool autumn air, but not touching. She looked so innocent, so nonthreatening in that moment, and her impassive features softened when she spoke. “Yes,” she whispered.

That simple word and the sorrow flashing in Lexa’s forest green eyes was enough to send Clarke tumbling over the edge again. A solemn tear snaked down her blotchy red cheeks as she breathed, “I killed all those people. Every one of them.” The admission hung heavy and stagnant in the air as if just the words carried with them the scent of death.

“Yes,” Lexa said again, instinctively reaching to thumb the tear from Clarke’s cheek, but Clarke jerked quickly away from her touch and Lexa let her hand fall slowly back to her side. She shifted back from the other girl, putting more distance between them as if the proximity could do nothing but hurt them both.

They sat in silence for a long while, unable to move, letting the woods fall quiet around them as the sun began its low arc in the sky. Clarke could tell that Lexa wanted to speak, wanted to explain, yet she did not try to. Instead, the Commander waited, allowing Clarke the time she needed to rein control of her wild feelings. Lexa had been many things to Clarke: an enemy, an ally, a mentor, sometimes a friend and almost a lover, but always, always, patient.

Clarke had forgotten what it was like to be this near to Lexa, the sense of calm and strength radiating from her in each and every situation and the control she was able to exude. Lexa was like the sun, bringing light and life to the world, but leaving darkness when she was gone; calm and impassive, yet blaring with intensity; so far out of reach, yet close enough to feel. Lexa was infinite, and even in times when she was not there, like the way the sun disappears in the night, all things still revolved around her.

When Clarke finally found her voice again, she spoke, the weight of unanswered questions bearing heavy on her shoulders. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you leave?” It was the one question that she could not live without knowing the answer to. The one question that had eaten away at her heart since the moment Lexa had turned her back on that blood soaked battlefield and faded swiftly into the night.

Lexa was quiet another moment before answering, choosing her words and knowing that there was nothing she could say that would take Clarke’s pain away. But she could help her learn to live with it. “We do what we must for our people, Clarke,” she replied, her voice soft yet resolute.

“What about _my_ people?” Clarke snapped before she could muzzle her anger. She hadn’t noticed before, but her hands had clenched themselves into fists, white knuckled and trembling, her nails biting into the flesh of her palms drawing blood.

Lexa swallowed hard, choking back her trepidation at Clarke’s wrath, her eyes shifting to the blood pooling in Clarke's hands. “You did what you had to do to save them.”

“You left us to die!” Clarke shouted, no longer able to control the storm that raged inside of her. 

If she had the strength to walk away, she would have, but just the effort of yelling sent her world spinning on end and white spots popping behind her vision. She knew she would always get the same answer from the Commander of the Coalition, as much as she needed a solid, real, tangible explanation, there was none other than Lexa had acted in her own people's interests. It left Clarke trembling with rage that threatened to seep from her veins and engulf the entire world in flames.

Lexa did not flinch at the anger in Clarke’s voice, and when she answered, her tone was calm as ever. “Do you know how many of my people have died in that mountain, Clarke?” Lexa asked, but it was rhetorical because she didn’t wait for an answer. “Thousands. Long before your people ever set foot on the ground, my people were being dragged beneath it. I was given a choice to finally end all of that without bloodshed. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would have not chosen the same.”

Clarke felt a hitch in her fury and her shoulders slump. She would not admit it, but she didn’t know if she would have made the same decision. If the Mountain Men had offered her a deal in exchange for the lives of the Grounders, would she have been able to resist? “We had a plan, Lexa. We had them beat,” she said instead, deflecting the question.

The Commander gave a single nod as a show of agreement. “The plan would have still brought casualties. A fight would have ensued. More of my warriors, my people, would have died at the hands of the Mountain Men. A hundred years they hunted us, kidnapped us, turned us into monsters and preyed on us. A hundred years, and I ended it without having to sacrifice another one of _my_ people.”

“But you sacrificed forty-two of mine. You sacrificed me, Lexa,” Clarke whispered, letting the unrelenting pain she felt flood her tone and her eyes equally.

Lexa sat rigidly, her expression stone, but her eyes gave way to the sting of acknowledging the betrayal. “My duty to my people comes first, Clarke. No matter how much at times I wish it wasn’t so,” she admitted, letting her gaze fall away. There was something in her posture that was not at all like the Commander that Clarke had come to know; she was scared.

For the first time, Clarke could see the war that Lexa fought within herself. She could see the constant battle she waged between feelings and duty, between doing what was right and doing what was best, between living and living for her people. Lexa was the Commander, taking charge of every single life but her own, belonging to every single person but herself. She survived, and ensured her people's survival, but had she ever truly just lived? Did she even know what it was like?

Clarke felt her anger leave her body again, this time replacing itself with a sense of hopelessness. “You could have stayed,” she whispered. Their gazes met in the same way the moon marries the trees on the horizon just before dawn; slowly, softly, silently. “You could have sent your armies away, and you could have stayed with me.”

“My life is not my own, Clarke,” Lexa replied, though Clarke could hear the longing in her voice and thought that maybe she wished it was. “It is not mine to risk in the dead of night while my people need me at the rise of each day.”

“ _I_ needed you!” Clarke spilled out before she could stop herself. Her voice cracked behind a sob and tears washed down her face once more. “I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I know,” Lexa whispered, letting their gazes lock. She did not attempt to justify her actions, but simply accepted this as truth.

Clarke shook her head, bringing the back of her hand to her eyes to dry them. “If you would have been there, then maybe—

“I know,” Lexa said again, not allowing Clarke to torture herself with the thought that maybe things could have been different. There was no point in living life according to could haves and would have beens. She knew that better than anyone.

They were silent again after that, letting the world around them revolve slowly, endlessly. The wind rustled gently, plucking brown and red leaves from the trees and letting them float slowly to the ground. In the distance, a bird called over and over again as if counting the seconds of stillness that ticked by. Far away a storm rumbled, but it was not close enough to obscure the sun filtering down through the gaps in the trees, though when the breeze shifted, it carried the musty scent of rain.

Clarke shifted back against the tree, her stomach turning over on itself to remind her again that she hadn’t eaten in days. She stared at Lexa as all the unspoken words dangled between them, driving a wedge that she couldn’t help but long to close. After all that had happened, she could bring herself to understand, but not to forgive. Not yet. She was broken, the weight of her decisions dragging her down like an anchor tethered to her ankles, barely able to keep her head above the water. She was sinking, drifting without direction or meaning, and all she wanted to do was find her way back. Back to the person she used to be before she pulled that lever. But after all she’d done, did she really deserve to?

It was Lexa who spoke again next, as if reading her mind. “We live with our decisions so that our people don’t have to, Clarke,” she said, shifting forward and brushing her fingertips over the back of Clarke’s hand, just soft enough to let her know that she was there and she was real.

For a moment, Clarke thought about pulling away, but instead warmed underneath Lexa’s soft touch. “What do we do when our decisions are too much to bear?” she asked, catching Lexa's hand in her own and willing her to feel the desperation in the pressure of her clutch. 

“We bear them anyways,” Lexa replied as if the answer was a simple truth, returning the pressure.

Clarke held Lexa’s gaze, staring deep into green eyes that held wisdom far beyond her years; eyes that had seen things that no person should ever have to bear witness to; eyes that danced with so much life, yet had beheld so much death. In that moment, Clarke’s heart broke again, not for the lives that had been lost or the things she had done, but for the girl in front of her. The girl that had the world at her fingertips, but for whom freedom had always been just out of reach.

“I would have pulled that lever for you, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, cracking the silence that had settled between them, lending a softness to her voice that Clarke had only heard once before. _‘Not everyone…not you…’_

Clarke felt the last bit of resentment she’d been holding on to flee her as a sob escaped her throat. This girl who had given so much for her people, who held the weight of a civilization on her shoulders, who bore more responsibility than Clarke could ever imagine, would have carried Clarke’s burden just so she didn’t have to. She would have pulled that lever.

She watched as Lexa exhaled a shaky breath, her eyes brimming with tears as she struggled for the first time to meet Clarke’s gaze. “I know,” Clarke whispered, lifting a gentle hand to Lexa’s face, catching a falling tear against her soft cheek and watching the embodiment of strength crumble beneath her touch.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lost in a sea of tumultuous emotions, they hadn’t noticed that the day had grown dark as the sun dipped behind a thick cloud cover, engulfing the forest in a dreary shade of gray. The air had turned cold and the wind now bit at their cheeks, flushing them pink with blood as their bodies tried to warm the skin just below the surface. Lexa’s expert hands moved over a pile of tinder she had gathered, coaxing a flame to life and then breathing oxygen into it until a healthy fire jumped and popped before them. 

Clarke watched intently, amazed at how easy the Commander made surviving look, but in her heart she knew there was nothing easy about it. Surviving in this world had been a struggle from the moment the drop ship touched the ground, and it was a battle that demanded relentless sacrifice. Clarke knew that Lexa understood that lesson better than anyone, better even than herself. And here she was, alive and surviving, a little damaged, but beautiful nonetheless. 

She gave Clarke hope, and that is what she needed more than anything right now. As much as Clarke wanted to hate her and drive her away, back to Polis and back to her own people, she knew that Lexa was the only person who could understand the pain that she was in. Lexa was the only person who had made equal sacrifices and suffered equal losses and shared an equal gaping sized hole in her heart. That thought alone gave her comfort.

The sound of approaching footsteps had Lexa on her feet in an instant, sword drawn and body positioned defensively in front of Clarke as if ready to strike at anyone who threatened her. It was amazing to see her shift from calm to fierce in the span of a second’s time, and Clarke couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread through her body. The bushes in front of them rustled and she breathed a sigh of relief as Indra stepped into the clearing. Lexa relaxed her guard, slipping her sword into the sheath on her back.

In her hand, Indra carried a limp rabbit, already skinned and gutted, ready to be roasted over their tiny dancing fire. “I brought food,” she said, addressing Lexa. “The Sky Girl needs to eat.”

“ _Mochof, Indra,_ ” Lexa replied and Clarke understood enough _Trigedasleng_ , the Grounder language, to know that she was thanking her.

The Commander held herself differently when her people were around. She stood straighter and let all the softness that she saved for Clarke slip from her voice. She held her chin high, her jawline set rigid, and her shoulders squared as if daring someone to challenge her. It was almost as if she existed as two different people; the Commander of the Twelve Clans, Leader of the Grounders, and Lexa, the girl that trembled beneath Clarke’s touch and breathed hope against Clarke’s lips when they kissed. She wondered how hard it must be to live as both. 

“ _Ai na kamp raun ona tri_ ,” Indra replied, shooting a glare between Lexa and Clarke as if disapproving of their very proximity to each other. Lexa nodded once and Indra disappeared back into the tree line.

Clarke watched her fade into the darkness before turning to Lexa. “What’s her problem?” she asked.

Lexa knelt down and set to work pinning the rabbit to a skewer above the fire before answering. “She does not approve of my presence here.”

“Why _are you_ here, Lexa?” Clarke questioned. She had not expected to see her again after Mount Weather, but she could not hide her relief in her voice, taking comfort from her presence.

The Commander positioned the meat where she wanted it and Clarke felt herself drooling as it began to sizzle above the licking flames. Her stomach rumbled with a hunger that had not been sated in days. Every few seconds a bit of the meat’s succulent juices would drip into the fire, making it splat and pop in front of them.

“Because you are not safe, Clarke,” Lexa replied, her tone sharp as if it hurt deep within her soul to admit. She settled down next to Clarke, leaning against the trunk of the tree as their shoulders lightly brushed each other. 

“Ice Nation?” Clarke asked though already aware of the answer and Lexa’s solemn nod confirmed it. “Do you know what they want from me?”

Again, the Commander nodded, staring straight ahead into the flames. “Your actions at Mount Weather made me look weak,” she began, though her tone was not accusatory. “ _Azgeda_ grows bold in their defiance, and my word can no longer protect you out here. They call you _Wanheda_ , the Commander of Death. Their queen believes that by killing you, she will take whatever power you hold,” she explained, her tone dropping to just above a growl as if she wanted to murder all of Ice Nation just for the threat alone.

Clarke felt a cold chill snake down her spine and she coughed to choke back the bile that had begun to rise in her throat. “I only did what I had to do to save my people,” she protested. “I never wanted any of this.”

“We are often times thrust into roles that we do not want, Clarke,” Lexa said, keeping her eyes trained on the fire. “Queen Nia saw your actions as a way to undermine me. She plots to overthrow me, though openly admitting it would be treason,” Lexa elaborated.

“Queen Nia? Is she the one who killed Costia?” Clarke questioned, wanting to kick herself once the words slipped out. 

Clarke watched Lexa visibly flinch beside her at the mention of Costia’s name as if even the thought stabbed at her heart like a knife, causing her actual physical pain. “Yes,” she breathed. 

“And now she’s after me because—

“Because she believes that by killing you, it will convince the other clan leaders that she is a more worthy Commander than I.”

“But I’m just one person.”

“So am I, Clarke,” Lexa replied. “One person can elevate an entire nation, and one person can bring an entire nation to its knees.” Her words rang true, and Clarke had witnessed herself just how powerful a single person could be. She had single handedly murdered three hundred people.

She shook her head, struggling to believe what Lexa was telling her. “But you are a good Commander. You have given everything for your people.”

Lexa shifted her weight so that she could look directly at Clarke, their knees remaining in constant contact, as if drawing strength from one another. “I allied with _Skaikru_ after you burned three hundred of my warriors, I let a bomb drop on an entire village, and I left you at the mountain to fight the battle in our stead. Those are the things Nia sees. Those are the decisions she seeks to exploit.”

“So you came all the way out here to warn me?” Clarke asked, doubting that the Commander of the twelve clans just so happened to be wandering through the forest.

Lexa turned the rabbit over so that it could cook evenly on the other side, the scent wafting irresistibly in Clarke’s nose. “I came all the way out here to protect you from my mistakes.”

Clarke breathed a silent sigh as butterflies soared through her stomach against her will. “I’ll return to Camp Jaha,” she suggested. “They can protect me.”

The Commander shook her head letting her disapproval show. “Ice Nation outnumbers _Skaikru_ ten to one. Your people would be slaughtered if Nia wanted to get to you.”

“Then I’ll keep moving.”

Lexa immediately shot down the idea, “She already found you once, Clarke. She will find you again.”

Clarke felt a wave of panic surge through her and she couldn’t tell if she should be relieved or terrified. Relieved that she had enough will to live to even feel terrified at all, or terrified that an entire nation of warriors was hunting her like she was a prized buck. Two days prior, she would have given up and let Nia kill her as she’d given up when the _Azgeda_ warrior had his hands around her throat, but seeing Lexa again had sent a jolt to her willpower. It had renewed some fight within her, bringing her hope, and where there was hope, there was life.

“What do I do, Lexa?” Clarke asked, hearing the fear in her own voice.

Lexa held Clarke’s gaze for a moment, clenching her jaw as if contemplating her next words carefully. “Come with me to Polis,” she replied, sliding a hand over Clarke’s knee, but realizing her small action and quickly drawing it away. “I can keep you safe there. Nia would not dare to move against my orders in my own city.”

Clarke blinked the shock from her eyes at the sudden invitation, anxiety gripping her at the thought of putting her life in Lexa’s hands again, of trusting her again. _Polis will change the way you think about us…_

“Lexa, I—

“You do not need to decide tonight, Clarke,” Lexa interjected. “Just think on it.”

Clarke stared at her, holding her gaze, searching those green eyes for the emotions that Lexa kept hidden from her face. “Okay,” she whispered.

Lexa nodded once, accepting Clarke’s need for time and letting the offer hang in the air between them. “Eat, Clarke,” she said, handing her the cooked rabbit on its skewer. “You look awful.”

Clarke gave her a playful elbow nudge as she took the meal, not hesitating a moment before biting into the steaming flesh. The savory flavor of the rabbit flooded her mouth and she thought that she had never tasted anything so wonderful in her life. She ate slowly, protecting her swollen throat from the pain that followed after every bite. Lexa watched her with a smug look as she consumed every last bit of meat, filling her stomach for the first time since the attack on Mount Weather. As soon as she finished eating, exhaustion washed over her and Clarke curled up beside the light of the fire, fighting to keep her eyes open. 

“Sleep, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “I will watch over you tonight.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next section gives us a glimpse inside Lexa's past and a few of the places she holds close to heart. It's been fun coming up with my own little back story for her character, and it will definitely be elaborated on further down the line. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Clarke’s fingers hovered above the lever, the air in the empty space between her flesh and the cool metal pulsing like a magnet, drawing her hand nearer. Outside the Drop Ship, she heard the shouts and battle cries of three hundred warriors converging in on them like a flood. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest and her blood raced through her veins, burning like fire beneath her skin. The shouts from outside grew closer, rumbling towards them like an impending stampede, and she knew it was now or never. She closed her eyes, letting her fingers wrap around the handle in front of her.

The Drop Ship jolted upward as if launching back into the atmosphere from which it'd come and suddenly the battle cries ringing in Clarke’s ears turned to cries of agony. She pictured all three hundred Grounder warriors, skin peeling off their bones as their bodies incinerated in the heat of the rocket fuel. When she found the courage to open her eyes again, Clarke’s hand was still clutched tightly around the lever, but she was no longer in the Drop Ship. She was in the control room of Mount Weather, Bellamy’s hand resting gently atop hers and she could feel the clammy moisture beneath his palm.

She turned to the monitor as a chorus of tortured screams filled the air, echoing loudly off the walls of the underground city. Clarke watched the faces of children contort in agony as their skin bubbled and melted and radiation washed over them, their eyes streaming with fear. They drew their last pained breaths, wheezing through charred lungs, and then all fell silent as if the chorus had sung its last song and was waiting for applause. The only audible sound was Clarke’s heart beating in her chest as she felt her world shatter.

But it was the dream that had shattered, and Clarke’s eyes snapped open, gasping for air as if shed been the one whose lungs were burning while she was still alive. Lexa was over her in an instant, kneeling beside her and cupping Clarke’s face gently in her hands. “You’re safe, Clarke,” she cooed, pulling Clarke’s frantic gaze into hers. “It was just a dream.”

Clarke felt her hands instinctively close around Lexa’s wrists, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping her from slipping back into the nightmare, their faces only a breath's length apart. She recalled the last time she had awoken from a dream in the forest after escaping the _Pauna_ , Lexa had been there, watching over her through the night. She wondered now if the Commander had gotten any sleep at all and searched for bags beneath her eyes, but instead found only worry, a hint of pain, and a lot of regret.

"I never meant to turn you into this," Lexa whispered. Tears did not well behind her forest gaze, but Clarke could feel the slight trembling in her fingers as they framed her cheeks. There was so much regret and longing in Lexa's voice that even as she struggled to hate her, Clarke couldn't help but to believe her. 

“Do the dreams ever stop?” she asked, pushing the statement aside with a gentle sob and holding her breath for the answer. She was broken, and the Commander had contributed to her undoing, there was no doubt, but she was not solely responsible. The thought that she blamed herself made Clarke's heart ache like a broken bone.

She watched Lexa’s eyes fall, as if wanting to protect her from the truth. “No,” she whispered, letting deft fingers catch the tear that had fallen on Clarke’s cheek and brush it away. “But you learn to live with them,” she added.

Clarke knew that if she was going to survive, she would have to learn to live with a lot of things. Starting with learning to live with herself and the things she had done. “How do you do it?” she asked.

Lexa rose to her feet, letting her hands fall away from Clarke’s face. She clenched her jaw as if mulling over her thoughts, though her expression was soft when she spoke again. “By acknowledging each death at my hands, but also acknowledging each life that rests within them. Our priority is with the living, Clarke. The dead are gone.”

Clarke held Lexa’s gaze, ever amazed at the constitution and wisdom behind those piercing green eyes. Lexa was young and beautiful, but she carried knowledge as if she had lived for ten lifetimes before. Being in her presence sent shivers across Clarke’s flesh; it excited her and humbled her, it made her weak and also gave her strength, it made her feel human, but also made her feel infinite. Lexa was everything all at once, every emotion, every feeling, and she scared Clarke to death, but she also captivated her.

Lexa cleared her throat and Clarke realized that she had been staring, feeling her cheeks go hot. “There is something I would like to show you, Clarke,” the Commander said, reaching down to pull Clarke to her feet. “Are you well enough to travel?”

“I think so,” she replied. Clarke felt the world spin and sway around her as she stood, but Lexa’s strong hands were there instantly to hold her steady and protectively in her firm grasp.

After a moment, the trees around her stopped spinning and her vision focused to a halt. It was just after dawn, the sun still low in the eastern sky, casting a soft orange glow over the dew-soaked forest. Larks called to each other in the distance and mockingbirds echoed their songs as flower petals opened themselves to the rising sun and everything seemed to be teaming with life. The trees themselves appeared to dance and sway with the motion of the gentle breeze as if shifting along to a sweet tune.

The scene sent a warm sense of happiness flooding through Clarke’s chest as if she was seeing the world for the first time. She had spent the last four days wrapped in a blanket of death and misery, and witnessing the birth of life with the rise of a new day gave her a feeling of unhindered hope. Hope that maybe one day, the pain of all the death she had seen would fade, and perhaps the vision of life would leave her whole again. She knew that the weight of her actions would always bear down on her, but maybe it didn’t have to be so heavy.

At the center of all the dawning life stood Lexa, her sun kissed cheeks pink against the chilling breeze. Her eyes were as green as the forest around her, glazed with tenderness as she stared at Clarke, holding her steady in her arms. Her touch was warm against her bare flesh, and Clarke drew strength from it, allowing it to melt away any remnants of her stagnant nightmare.

But just as suddenly as the moment of beauty and hope had come, it fleeted away, disappearing as flashes of bubbling skin and bleeding eyes played over in Clarke’s mind. “You’re okay,” Lexa whispered, as if knowing exactly where Clarke’s thoughts had wandered.

“I’m fine,” Clarke replied, stepping out of her grasp. Instantly the world felt colder again, but she shrugged off the draining sensation, shifting her gun into place on her hip.

Lexa gave her a single nod, letting her spine go rigid as she shifted from soft to impassive again. “Come, Clarke,” she said, turning to the tree line. “It is not far from here.”

“What about Indra?” Clarke asked, noting the absence of the other warrior.

“She will follow,” Lexa answered over her shoulder, then started into the trees.

Clarke followed the Commander through the forest, remaining a few steps behind but close enough to reach out and grab her hand if she wanted to. Lexa walked in silence; content with the company of her own thoughts, and Clarke wondered what it was that the Commander of the Coalition, Leader of the Twelve Clans, thought about. Was it her people? Did she reminisce on the past with Anya? Did she look towards the future? Was she thinking about Clarke? The idea sent butterflies soaring through her chest and she quickly pushed them away, silently scolding herself, trying desperately to cling to the anger that seemed to be fleeting away with each passing moment.  
“What is it you wish to know, Clarke?” Lexa mused as if she had plucked the thought right from Clarke’s brain. She kept her pace, her eyes glued to the trees around them, always diligent, always scanning for danger. A true warrior.

“Did you have someone follow me after Mount Weather?” Clarke asked, coming up with anything other than what she truly had been wondering. However, it was a question for which she wanted an answer.

“No,” Lexa replied, and Clarke could hear a slight hint of frustration in her voice as if the idea had crossed her mind, but she hadn't acted on it. “I sent a scout party into the mountain after you left with your people, but I did not have you followed.”

Clarke took Lexa’s hand as the Commander reached down to help her over a fallen tree, letting their fingers linger together a little longer than necessary. “Then how did you know where to find me?” she asked. She had been wandering alone in the vast expanse of the forest for days, yet Lexa had found her as easily as finding the North Star in the vast expanse of space.

Lexa slowed her pace, waiting for Clarke to fall into stride beside her. “When I heard that Nia was hunting you, I immediately dispatched riders to Camp Jaha,” she stated. They walked next to each other now, their shoulders and fingertips brushing every few steps with the movement of their matching gaits. “When they brought word that you had left the camp, I knew where you would go.”

“You knew I’d go back to Mount Weather?” Clarke asked; surprised because at the time not even she knew where her feet were carrying her.

The Commander nodded once, but kept her eyes forward. “Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I know you, Clarke,” Lexa replied, turning to let their gazes meet. The friction between them seemed to come alive each time that earthy green clashed with that sky blue. “You have a need to process your emotions or they claw at you. Where I keep mine locked away, you wear yours like armor for the world to see,” she explained.

Lexa was an expert at hiding her emotions, but Clarke had seen compassion and tenderness in her eyes, and she had felt warmth and desire in her touch. She had tasted the urgency, need, and even a bit of fear in Lexa’s kiss. The woman was unreadable to most, a pillar of strength and a display of complete control. But Clarke had seen past her walls and had lived in moments with the Commander that no other person had ever known. Except maybe one…

“You don’t _always _keep your emotions hidden,” Clarke noted.__

__Lexa was silent for a long while, letting their footfalls fill the empty space between them. Just when Clarke thought she would not reply, Lexa surprised her. “Not with you, Clarke,” she whispered._ _

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

__

__They walked for what seemed like hours, and Clarke could feel her energy weaning, still drained from starving herself for four days. The trees around them had begun to thin out, appearing more sparsely every few yards as if the forest in this area had been cut down and replanted. In the distance, Clarke could hear the sound of rushing water as it flowed heavily over rocks and crashed down the other side. The ground beneath her boots hardened and began to crunch, and she looked down to see charred earth where fire had raged long ago._ _

__Lexa stopped, taking in a long shaky breath and Clarke could see her shoulders tense beneath a mountain of nerves. “Hey, what is it?” Clarke asked, her voice tender. She let a bit more concern seep into her tone than she originally intended, but she couldn’t take it back, so instead she placed a timid hand on Lexa’s shoulder, unsure if she actually meant to comfort._ _

__“It is just up ahead,” Lexa replied, keeping her spine rigid and her shoulders high, hiding all signs of apprehension and seemingly taking no notice of Clarke's hesitant touch._ _

__Lexa led Clarke through the bushes to the remnants of what once was a village, nestled quaintly between the forest and the bank of a river. The ground was seared, new life poking through in places, green against the blackened dirt. The trees were still charred, although vines had woven around them as if the Earth was attempting to heal itself from the damage. Clarke could still see the stone foundations of some of the buildings that had long since crumbled to dust._ _

__She took a step towards Lexa, feeling cold shivers down the back of her neck that brought goose bumps to the surface of her skin. A loud _crack_ rang out under her boot and Clarke looked down to see a brittle and blackened human bone split in half beneath her foot. The Commander stood over the ruins, expression hidden behind a shade of calm, but her hand had shifted to the sword on her belt as if expecting the ghosts of the past to spring up from the ash and attack. Something awful had happened here._ _

__Clarke found her hand in Lexa’s without having realized it, as if they were magnets drawn to each other. “What is this place?” she asked, pulling away quickly, wrapping her arms around her own body as a chilly breeze swept through the clearing._ _

__“This was once my home,” Lexa whispered, trying without success to mask the trembling in her voice._ _

__Clarke felt a rush of sorrow as she glanced around at the destruction before her. She inched closer to the Commander and found herself trying to lend her strength through the warmth in the air between their bodies. “I always thought you were raised in TonDC? With Anya?” Clarke asked, keeping her voice as gentle as possible. She felt as if it was almost a sin to speak in a place like this. Hallowed ground. Undisturbed. Untouched._ _

__“I was,” Lexa replied. “But we all come from somewhere, Clarke. I came from here.” The Commander knelt down and scooped a pile of dirt and ash in her hand, letting it sift and fall through the spaces between her fingers like an hourglass. Clarke remained silent, allowing Lexa a moment to gather her emotions. “I was eight when my parents were taken by the mountain,” she explained when she was ready to speak again._ _

__Clarke felt her heart jump into her throat and her stomach twist with pain and sorrow for the woman in front of her. She had never imagined that the battle with the Mountain Men would have carried that much meaning for Lexa. It was about more than just doing her duty and saving her people, it had been about closure as well. She should have known better._ _

__“I’m here,” Clarke whispered, again placing a soothing hand on the Commander’s shoulder, urging her on._ _

__“After they disappeared, Anya took me as her Second, before I was called to lead,” Lexa continued as if she hadn’t even registered Clarke’s touch. “I do not know the fate of my mother, but she was not among those that we rescued from the mountain.”_ _

__Clarke recalled the bodies she had seen in the tunnels beneath Mount Weather, the Mountain Men had harvested them, drained them of their blood and then dropped them down a mineshaft like trash in a garbage chute. The Reapers, driven crazy by drug induced bloodlust, would feed on the corpses of the dead or scarcely living. Clarke pictured Lexa’s mother as one of those bodies and the bitter taste of bile soured in her mouth._ _

__The Commander was still kneeling when she spoke next. “I did one day see my father again.”_ _

__“When?” Clarke rasped, her voice barely louder than the wind._ _

__Lexa rose to her feet, dusting her hands together and letting the ash fall from her palms in small gray wisps. She turned and met Clarke’s gaze, jaw clenching with tension, and breathed deeply before continuing. “When I was sixteen. I had just united the twelve clans, and my first duty as head of the coalition was to stop the Reaper attacks on _Trikru_.”_ _

__Clarke glanced around again at the rubble and charred remains of the village. “What happened?”_ _

__Lexa swallowed deeply and shifted her gaze again, as if trying to conceal the pain in her eyes but Clarke had already seen it. “A great battle ensued. Many villages were lost, including this one. Brother fought against brother, wife fought against husband, father against son. All familiar faces, taken and warped and turned by the mountain.”_ _

__Clarke reached for Lexa’s hand, this time with purpose, pulling her attention back in. The Commander’s green eyes were distant, as if remembering a time that had long since passed. “Did you win the battle?” Clarke asked._ _

__Lexa’s hand was stiff in hers, unused to the touch of another, but she did not pull away. “The Mountain Men held off our advance with the acid fog, we could not breach their perimeter. But, we obliterated their Reaper forces.”_ _

__“And your father?”_ _

__She was silent a moment and Clarke watched tears spring up in the Commander’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, resolve settling over her. “I came across him in battle. It had been eight years, but I knew it was him. The Reaper drug had consumed him, and he was standing over a wounded girl, lifting his club to end her life.”_ _

__“Lexa, did you—_ _

__“I killed him. Without hesitation,” she finished. Her voice was hard and her expression stone, but Clarke felt the way that her hand trembled in hers._ _

__Clarke shook here head, slowly back and forth, bringing her other hand to Lexa’s cheek. She understood now why Lexa had been so adamant in Skaikru finding a cure for the dangerous detox that all Reapers went through once off the Red. Had she known then that they could be saved, maybe her father would not be dead. “Lexa, you did what you had to do,” Clarke whispered._ _

__“I know,” Lexa nodded. “That is why I brought you here, Clarke.” She captured Clarke’s wrist in her hand and held it there, pressing her palm to her cheek and willing her to see the wisdom in her words. “We killed many of our own that day. I killed my own father. But these were necessary sacrifices, Clarke,” she explained._ _

__Clarke’s eyes went wide as she registered the words that had just flowed from her own mouth. ‘You did what you had to do.’ Just as Lexa, Clarke had done what she had to to save her people in Mount Weather, no matter the cost. It was not because she was a monster or a murderer, but simply because she had no other choice. She bears that burden so her people don’t have to._ _

__“You see, Clarke, we do what we must to save our people,” Lexa continued, releasing hold of Clarke’s hand and letting it fall away. “Sometimes victory demands sacrifice.”_ _

__Clarke nodded, finally understanding, feeling as if the weight that had been crushing her was a little less heavy. She took a deep breath and found that the action of breathing no longer twisted her insides with guilt. Tears welled in her eyes and she let them fall, watering the broken ground beneath their feet. She stared into Lexa’s haunting green gaze and for the first time, Clarke let a small piece of herself heal. Her battle was far from over, but there was a glimmer of hope and there was light, and there was Lexa, guiding her through the darkness._ _

__"How do I know I can trust you?" Clarke asked, entirely off topic._ _

__Lexa seemed unfazed by the sudden change, her emerald gaze holding steady to Clarke's. "You can," she answered. "I never intended to hurt you."_ _

__The words would not heal the pain in her heart nor reverse time and bring back the dead, but she knew that they were true. "If you betray me again—_ _

__"I won't," Lexa cut her off, voice adamant and almost laced with desperation as if begging Clarke to believe her. She wanted nothing more than to fall to her knees and swear fealty to Clarke and her people, but she could not. Not yet at least. "Clarke, I—_ _

__Clarke held up a hand as Lexa's words trailed off. There was no need to hear any more in that moment, and she wasn't sure if she was actually ready to. “Let’s go, Commander,” she said, feeling a whisper of a grin tug at her lips. “I think I’ve seen enough death to last a lifetime.”_ _

__A ghost of a smile twitched in Lexa’s cheeks at the use of her formal title and Clarke felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. “Where would you like to go, Clarke of the Sky People?”_ _

__“Take me to Polis.”_ _

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

__“I’ve been in TonDC overseeing the reconstruction efforts,” Lexa explained. Clarke was wondering where the Commander had gone after Mount Weather and how she had gotten to her so quickly when _Azgeda_ came looking for her. It gave her a faint, yet unmistakable, sense of comfort knowing that Lexa had been that close all along. “We will have to retrieve horses from there before we set off for Polis.”_ _

__They hiked alongside each other, their pace easy and without rush, allowing Clarke to rest when she needed. Lexa remained ever alert, constantly scanning for danger, and when Clarke glanced back, she caught sight of Indra about twenty yards behind them. The other warrior remained at a distance and out of ear shot and Clarke didn’t know whether it was because of distrust or disapproval, or simply because Lexa had commanded it so. Still, Clarke felt better knowing that nobody would be able to sneak up behind them._ _

__She was at ease with Lexa, allowing herself to relax and simply breathe in the presence of someone who carried just as heavy of a burden, if not heavier, than she. Something about her brought comfort to Clarke, and she knew that if anything, no judgment would ever pass between the two of them. Lexa accepted her and her decisions, knowing full well what it had cost her to make them. It was a feeling that none of her own people had ever been able to give her._ _

__Her people always demanded action from her, looking to her for answers and decisions, and then holding her personally responsible if her choices yielded unfavorable results. Then there was Lexa who carried her decisions with her and accepted the consequences they brought, and in turn offered Clarke the same reprieve from scrutiny and disapproval. She understood what in meant to lead and that sometimes her actions may not be what was best for any individual person, but it was her duty to ensure that they were what was best for the people._ _

__Clarke sighed, letting her gaze wander up through the branches of the trees. “Lexa, I don’t know if I can handle seeing anymore destruction right now,” she admitted._ _

__The last time she’d been in TonDC, the village was in shambles after the missile strike from Mount Weather. The Mountain Men had aimed to wipe out Clarke, Lexa, and the rest of the clan leaders in one single blow, but Bellamy had warned them in time, and Clarke and Lexa were able to escape quietly into the night. But they could not warn the people without giving away Bellamy’s position, their only strategic advantage over Mount Weather, and they had let dozens of people die as the village burned down before them. Those deaths were just more casualties by her decisions, more blood on her hands and regret in her heart, but at least she shared the burden of them with Lexa._ _

__The Commander stopped for a moment, turning to Clarke. “You have nothing to fear, Clarke,” she said softly. “I would not bring you to a place that would cause you pain.”_ _

__Clarke stared into her tender green eyes and nodded once. “Okay,” she whispered. She was not ready to trust Lexa again, but she trusted her in this small truth._ _

__They continued their pace again, feeling the autumn sun warm on their skin as it filtered down from the treetops in beams of orange light. The breeze carried the brown and red leaves across the ground, making them dance playfully between the trees in miniature whirlwinds. It was late afternoon, the sun just beginning its western arc in the sky, and the forest around them seemed to settle as if growing dreary as the day dragged on. Clarke plucked the bulb of a purple flower from a nearby bush and let it twirl on its stem gently between her fingers._ _

__She brought the bulb to her nose, wondering what sweet scent it might carry, but dropped it a second later as it popped open and released a spray of yellow pollen across her face. The flower gave off a rotten stench, like sulfur and soured eggs, and she nearly gagged at the pungent odor of it. Clarke sneezed a few times as she tried to force the dusty powder from inside her nose._ _

__Beside her, Lexa giggled, an entrancing smile spread across her supple pink lips, eyes alight with laughter. Instantly, a wave of heat surged through Clarke’s chest as butterflies took flight in her stomach and she thought that she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Lexa’s laughter was like a melody, sweet and haunting, but fleeting, and it was gone almost as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving an emptiness in the air as if something was missing from the world._ _

__“Here,” Lexa said, taking Clarke’s face gently in her hands and using the sleeve of her gray shirt to wipe the pollen from Clarke’s nose and cheeks. A faint grin still tugged playfully at the corners of her mouth._ _

__“You knew that would happen, didn’t you?” Clarke asked as Lexa finished brushing away the last bit of powder._ _

__The Commander let her hands linger on Clarke’s cheeks, tracing the line of her jaw with her thumbs. “Maybe,” Lexa replied, a hint of mischief flashing in the green of her eyes. They held each other’s gazes a moment longer before Lexa let her hands fall away, blinking a few times as if forcing herself from a day dream. “Come, Clarke,” she said, turning away. “We are nearly there.”_ _

__Clarke stared at Lexa’s back, the same as she had done the night the Commander had left her at Mount Weather, but this time Clarke felt longing pulling on the strings of her heart instead of regret. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to forgive Lexa for her betrayal, but deep down she knew that a part of her already had. Lexa had acted in the best interests of her people, against her own wants and needs, the same as she had always done and the same as she would always do. Lexa would always put her people first, even if it meant sacrificing her own needs and her own freedom. That is what Clarke both feared and admired most about her._ _

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

__They reached TonDC just before dusk, the village springing up out of the middle of the forest like an oasis amidst the trees. The last time Clarke had been here, most of the town sat in rubble at the bottom of a smoldering crater. People cried out in pain as they struggled to free themselves from the buildings that had been caved in. Clarke could still hear the echoing of their screams in her ears as the entire village burned down around them._ _

__This time as they approached, those cries of pain were replaced with the sounds of laughter and music. The only fire that burned was one that had a boar roasting on a spit above it, filling the air with the warm smell of pork instead of the scent of charred flesh. The buildings that had been reduced to rubble had been cleared away, the foundations of new structures replacing them. The town bustled with people going about their evening routines, and it looked as if TonDC was more alive now than ever before._ _

__Makeshift tents had been set up to house the villagers while the reconstruction efforts were in progress, and at the center of the town was the largest tent; what Clarke assumed to be Lexa’s quarters. The only sign that there had ever been chaos here was some mild scorching on the trunks of nearby trees, but even those had already begun to mend. To anyone seeing the village for the first time, it would have appeared as if nothing terrible had ever happened there._ _

__People greeted them as they walked through the gates, bowing to Lexa in a show of respect. The first time Clarke had come through that gate, they carried Finn’s body, and the villagers looked at her as if they wanted to strap her to his funeral pyre and watch her burn with him. Now, they looked at her with joy and adoration as she strode alongside Lexa, eyeing them as if they were heroes returning home from war._ _

__“You see, Clarke,” Lexa said, casting a knowing glance. “Even the most broken of things may heal.”_ _

__Clarke knew that her words carried a double meaning, but she was too overwhelmed to comment on them. “Why are they all staring at me?” she asked as they made their way towards Lexa’s tent._ _

__Lexa was silent for a moment before answering, allowing Clarke to soak in the transformation of the town that seemed to have sprouted new life from the death and destruction that not long ago stood in its place. “Many of these people lost family members to Mount Weather, and many of these people are those who were trapped inside. You freed them.”_ _

__“We freed them together,” Clarke replied._ _

__That much was true. They had worked together to free the hundreds of Grounders that had been trapped inside Mount Weather, even if Lexa had accepted a deal that left forty-two of _Skaikru_ to die. She had sacrificed the few to save the many, same as they had done when they let the missile drop on TonDC. Clarke did not condone it, but she was staring to understand it._ _

__Lexa nodded and let the subject drop, pulling the flap of her tent open to let Clarke enter first and then shifting in behind her. The tent was just as Clarke remembered it. Lexa’s throne sat prominently in the center of the room, captivating in its intricately woven frame of wood, metal, and antlers, and draped in various furs around the base. To the left, a plush couch rested amongst a pile of rust colored throw pillows. A table to the right was littered with papers and drawings and Clarke wondered if their battle plans that had sat there just days before had been replaced with blueprints for rebuilding TonDC. Hundreds of candles decorated the room, sprawling across the floor, resting on wooden stands, melting onto end tables, and bathing the tent in warm flickering light. At the back, Clarke could see Lexa’s bedchambers, portioned off by a separate flap that hung open loosely. A bed, laden with pelts of different colors and sizes, sat off to the right and a wash basin rested directly in the middle._ _

__Clarke felt her eyes sting with longing, realizing for the first time that she had not bathed in nearly a week. Her clothes were caked onto her skin by sweat and dirt and her hair was matted in dreadlocks down her shoulders. Her cheeks went hot when she realized that she must smell atrocious and she had probably been suffocating Lexa with her stench for the past two days._ _

__“Bathe, Clarke,” Lexa said, following her gaze to the tub. “We have time.”_ _

__Lexa led her to the room in the back, sticking a hand in and checking the temperature of the water before turning to leave. “I must check on the restoration efforts, but do not hesitate to send for me if you need me, Clarke,” Lexa called from the doorway._ _

__“Thank you, Commander,” Clarke replied, and she thought she caught the hint of a smile on Lexa’s lips as she pulled the flaps closed behind her._ _

__When she was alone, Clarke began to undress, lifting her shirt over her head and dropping it in a rancid heap. She kicked off her boots, letting her gun fall from her belt with a heavy _thud_ and she was happy to be rid of the weight. Clarke unbuckled her belt and shifted her pants down over her hips, stepping out of them as they bunched around her ankles and scooting them aside. She peeled off her socks, surprised that her skin had not grown attached to them in places where her blisters had popped, and then let the last layers of her undergarments fall away._ _

__She felt exposed, standing in the middle of Lexa’s room and staring down at her own filthy bare flesh. Her skin was sealed in a thick layer of grime, coating every inch of her body from head to toe, and she had clearly lost some weight in the days that she had neglected to eat. The pile of clothes beside her wafted a pungent odor, and Clarke thought that it might be best to just burn them rather than try to salvage them._ _

__She stepped cautiously into the warm water, letting the fresh pink skin beneath the blisters on her feet adjust to the heat. She stood knee deep in the tub, bending down and scooping up water to pour over her skin. It ran off her in thick muddy streams, turning the water a murky shade of brown, and Clarke was surprised that so much dirt could have existed on one single person, almost as if she had been buried alive in it. What looked like a bar of soap sat on the edge of the tub and Clarke took it in her hand; running it gently over her body and watching the grime come off her in strips where the soap touched. It smelled of lavender and honey and she idly wondered how the Grounders had made it before working it into a lather in her hands and spreading it through her hair._ _

__When she felt clean enough, she stepped out of the brackish water, wrapping herself in a nearby towel. She felt like an entirely new person, as if washing the dirt from her body had also helped to cleanse parts of her soul that had been tainted and marred. The drops of water on her skin danced in the candlelight like flickering stars as she wrung some of the moisture from her hair._ _

__“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice called from outside the room and Clarke wondered just how long she had been in the tub._ _

__“I’m okay,” Clarke called back, hoping for a just a moment that the Commander would come through the door, and feeling slightly disappointed when the flaps remained still._ _

__“You will find clothes in the wardrobe by the bed,” Lexa replied. “I had dinner brought in for us whenever you are ready.”_ _

__Clarke noticed the wooden chest by the bed for the first time, a full-length mirror standing behind it. The mirror was broken towards the top, cracks snaking down it like a spider web, but it was mostly still intact and Clarke wondered how it had survived in this world for a hundred years. “I’ll be out in a minute,” Clarke answered._ _

__She went to the wardrobe and popped it open, sifting through Lexa’s clothing for something that would fit her. Since their arrival on the ground, Clarke had adapted to wearing a hybrid mixture of Grounder and _Skaikru_ apparel, but she had never dressed in full length Grounder attire. Their undergarments were similar to that of the Sky People, except their bras were not sewn with underwire, but instead wrapped tightly for comfort and support, and Clarke had no trouble fitting into the top and boy-short bottoms. She selected a pair of black pants that hugged her legs tightly and a loose fitting charcoal colored shirt that hung low off her right shoulder, exposing a bit of clean bare skin. She tied a set of leather bracers around her thighs and wrists, looping them a few times over before fitting them snuggly into place. Then she pulled on a pair of wool socks and was surprised to find that Lexa wore the same size shoe as her as she slipped into a pair of black boots that laced all the way up the back of her calf._ _

__When Clarke finished dressing, she stepped back and admired her reflection in the mirror. She looked like an entirely new person, fierce and imposing in the Commander’s attire, but also strong and naturally beautiful. It gave her a confidence she had not felt since the night she had marched into battle beside Lexa, and Clarke let herself smile for just a moment. She quickly raked her fingers through her damp blonde hair, combing out as many tangles as possible and letting it fall in waves down her back and around her face. She gave herself one more once-over in the mirror before turning and stepping through the door into the main room._ _

__Lexa sat on the daybed at the other end of the room, elbow propped on a pillow and knees to her chest, lost in the pages of a weather worn book. She wore a different attire than before, now dressed in a long sleeved tunic with a fur lined collar and cuffs, the front was open, revealing a tight fitting black shirt beneath, while the back ran longer in length. Her pants and knee length boots clung to her legs as if they were painted on and her bronzed skin was free of makeup._ _

__Lexa’s hair was wet, hanging over her left shoulder as she fiddled with it absentmindedly, leaving Clarke to wonder where she would have bathed if not in her own chambers. She looked raw, exposed almost, giving her a human quality that Clarke had never associated with Lexa before, and it made her heart flutter. Beneath the hardened exterior, the impassive expression and the layers of warpaint, Lexa was astonishingly, beautifully, entirely mortal._ _

__She glanced up as Clarke stepped closer, noticing her for the first time, drawing her thoughtful gaze from the pages of the book in her lap. Lexa’s eyes went wide and she swallowed deeply as she measured Clarke from head to toe. She gently shut the book that no longer held an ounce of her interest and rose to her feet, her mouth falling slightly open as if she couldn’t find the words she was searching for. Clarke felt her cheeks go hot, and she glanced away, trying to hide the bashfulness that she knew had welled up just beneath her skin._ _

__“Um, sorry I took so—_ _

__“You look—_ _

__They both started at the same time, letting their sentences fall away. Their eyes met, sky crashing against earth, brimming with desire in the burning light of the candles. “Come, Clarke,” Lexa said, gathering herself and ushering towards the table that had been stacked with papers before. The clutter had been removed and replaced by a small feast; a roasted chicken sat between two place settings, along with a loaf of steaming bread, a bowl of grapes, and what looked like two goblets of wine. “We should eat.”_ _

__Clarke felt her stomach rumble and her mouth begin to water, not realizing just how hungry she was. “This looks amazing, Lexa,” she said, sitting down across from the Commander._ _

__Lexa nodded, taking Clarke’s plate in her hand and serving a heavy ration of food onto it before serving herself. “You look different,” Lexa mused._ _

__“Is different good?” Clarke asked, suddenly self-conscious about her new attire, again feeling the blush in her own cheeks and struggling not to squirm beneath the Commander's hungry gaze._ _

__“Yes, Clarke,” she replied, not trying to hide the sly smile that had pulled at her lips at seeing the other girl's reaction. “Different is good.”_ _

__After that, they ate in silence, basking in the glow of the candle light, trying desperately to hide their wandering gazes from each other, and glancing quickly away each time their eyes met from across the table. Clarke enjoyed living in moments like these with Lexa, where conversation was not necessary and the need to speak did not overshadow the need to eat and to rest._ _

__The Grounder culture was different in that way. They spoke when something needed to be said, and did not find discomfort in times where words were not essential. Clarke found that often times, the things Lexa said with her eyes were much louder than those she said with her voice. When she did speak, it was with purpose, to command or to teach, to offer words of wisdom or to demand sacrifice. But with Clarke, it usually was to comfort, speaking with a tone that had been reserved only for her. She wondered if Lexa had used the same tone with Costia, or if she had once looked at Costia the way Clarke caught her looking at her right now._ _

__By the time they had finished their meal, Clarke found herself yawning and blinking back sleep from her eyes, struggling to keep them open. The day had been long and draining, and her emotions had run higher in the past week than ever before in her life, leaving her feeling depleted of all energy. She thought the longer she was on the ground, the easier it would be to survive, but she had been dead wrong. She found herself longing for a time when she was just another girl on the Ark, and knew that she would never be that girl again._ _

__Lexa watched her intently, not attempting to hide her piercing emerald gaze. “You’re tired, Clarke,” she stated. “You may sleep in my bed tonight.” Clarke gave her a sidelong glace and Lexa’s eyes went wide as she realized what she had unintentionally inferred. “What I meant to say was that I would prefer if you slept in the bed. I will sleep on the couch,” she stumbled, attempting to correct herself._ _

__Clarke felt a smile tugging at her lips, enjoying seeing the Commander in such a flustered state and knowing that it was a rare sight. “You don’t have to do that, Lexa. I’ll take the couch,” she said, doing her best to mask her laughter._ _

__Lexa shook her head, taking Clarke’s hand gently in hers as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and leading her into the bedchamber at the back of the tent. Clarke followed, resigned to defeat and knowing that there was no point in arguing, and very aware of every inch of her skin that was touching Lexa’s. She slipped into the room and turned to face the Commander, friction hanging in the space between them, their bodies just inches apart. Their hands were still clasped and they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, their shadows melting together in an embrace on the wall as if the universe was attempting to send them a sign._ _

__“I will be outside if you need me, Clarke,” Lexa murmured, pulling slightly away, though her eyes remained lost in the pools of blue that were staring back at her._ _

__Suddenly it was far too hot and Clarke cleared her throat, stepping back, and letting the moment fleet away as a rush of cool air flooded between them. The sensation was sharp in contrast to the warmth she felt in her chest and between her legs. “Goodnight, Commander,” she whispered._ _

__Lexa gave her a wistful, almost longing, smile before she turned to leave, stopping just before the door. “Goodnight, Clarke of the Sky People,” she called over her shoulder._ _

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

__Clarke stood in front of a Plexiglas window in her room, the vast expanse of the Milky Way galaxy expanding in front of her in cosmic wisps of purple and white. Beyond the visible rim, the universe was deep and black, and infinite. The view of the Earth below never ceased to take her breath away, and she longed to paint the vibrant blues and muddled greens. She watched a hurricane swirling somewhere over what was once Florida, the gray and white clouds spiraling out from the center and dissipating towards the edges. She idly wondered what it would be like to feel the wind in her hair and the rain on her skin._ _

__The moment of tranquility was shattered by the whir of gears and the sound of a door sliding open behind her. Her father entered, wearing a lazy grin and a gray jumpsuit, his blue eyes lighting up at the sight of her. He smiled and it went all the way to his ears, deep dimples forming up in his cheeks as he shook a lock of sandy-blonde hair from in front of his eyes. “Hey kiddo,” he said. “What are you doing in here?”_ _

__“Dad,” she breathed, feeling as if she hadn’t seen him in years. She rushed into his arms, wrapping herself in his warm frame and breathing in the scent of his musty aftershave. “I missed you so much.”_ _

__He squeezed her tightly and with urgency, as if it was the last hug he would ever give her. “Be brave, Clarke,” he whispered._ _

__“What?” she asked, pulling herself from his grasp._ _

__They were no longer in her room, but standing in front of one of the Ark’s airlocks, her mother and the rest of the council had gathered around them. Her father pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead, and then stepped into the airlock, the door sliding shut behind him. “No,” Clarke said, her voice cracking behind a sob. “No, don’t do this!” she yelled._ _

__She met her father’s gaze and he smiled at her, except it was no longer filled with joy, but with immeasurable sadness. The moment lingered and Clarke could count the beats of her heart in the space between them, and then the door behind her father opened. His eyes went wide as the air was sucked out of his lungs and his body was sucked out of the Ark, sending him floating endlessly through space._ _

__“No!” Clarke screamed, tears running down her face. She fell forward, banging on the clear class door with a closed fist as if shattering it would somehow bring him back. “No!” she shouted again._ _

__“Clarke!” A voice called, and she felt warm hands around her shoulders, shaking her. “Clarke!”_ _

__Her eyes snapped open and she gasped for air, glancing around wildly as she struggled to find her bearings. She was thrashing about in bed, throwing her fists towards the figure that motioned to restrain her. She wasn’t on the Ark, but back in the tent in TonDC, the room bathed in warm candlelight as shadows danced off the canvas walls around her. Lexa sat huddled above her, an expression of worry tugging at her divine features as she ran soothing hands up and down Clarke’s arms._ _

__“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered, her voice flooded with tenderness. “It was just a dream.”_ _

__Clarke felt tears well in her eyes and escape down her cheeks before she could hold them back, but Lexa quickly thumbed them away. “My father,” Clarke began, but her voice fell away, unable to find the words._ _

__“Breathe, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, voice trembling._ _

__“They floated him,” Clarke choked behind a sob. “I watched him die.”_ _

__Lexa let her hands rest gently on Clarke’s cheeks, cradling her face softly, tracing her jawline with her thumb. Their eyes met; the steady, solid, infinite earth, dancing with the tumultuous crashing of thundering blue sky. “The past can only hurt as much as we let it, Clarke," Lexa stated softly. "Steady your nerves.”_ _

__Clarke nodded, sucking in a deep breath through her nose and letting it out slowly through her mouth. She drew strength from Lexa’s touch, their faces just inches from each other, electricity hanging in the air between them. “Did I wake you?” Clarke asked, finding her voice again and leaning forward to press her forehead to Lexa's._ _

__“I think nightmares found us both tonight,” Lexa replied, her jaw clenching tightly as if biting back a shot of pain._ _

__“Are you okay?” Clarke asked, her hands sliding gently around Lexa’s wrists, still framing her cheeks._ _

__Their gazes met again and Lexa’s green eyes shifted down to Clarke’s lips, lingering for a moment before flitting back up again. “I would like to show you something, Clarke,” she whispered._ _

__“What is it?” Clarke breathed, her voice barely louder than the sound of her own heartbeat as if speaking too loud would shatter the moment._ _

__Lexa swallowed, running her tongue over her lips. “Come with me,” she said, letting her hand fall from Clarke’s cheek, down her shoulder, and pulling her from the bed by the wrist._ _

__Clarke rose slowly, slipping out from beneath the heavy furs, never taking her gaze from Lexa, as if they were tethered together by some invisible force. The Commander waited while Clarke slipped into her boots, then knelt in front of her to help lace them up her calves, letting her hand linger lightly on her hip. Lexa shrugged off her black overcoat, sliding it over Clarke’s shoulders, then pulled another one from the wardrobe. She took Clarke’s hand again, question ringing in her deep green eyes, and when Clarke didn’t pull away, she let their fingers knot together as they slipped out of the tent._ _

__It was the middle of the night, stars dotting the sky in blinking white bursts of light, the moon hanging full overhead and casting the forest in a soft blue glow. The village was still, and all that moved were the guards that stood on patrol, defending the borders from any threat that sought to strike in the night. Lexa led Clarke out of the gate, ducking into the trees off the beaten path, moving as if retracing the steps she’d taken thousands of times before._ _

__The forest was black, the moonlight filtering down in radiant beams, chasing away the darkness everywhere it touched. The night itself was alive, crickets and cicadas chirping loudly as if singing a melody to each other, and somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Clarke’s hand was warm in Lexa’s, their fingers and palms fitting together as if they were made to hold each other. Clarke felt herself beginning to relax, though she was aware of the sparks pulsing between them, and it sent nerves shooting through her stomach._ _

__They had been walking for about five minutes when the sound of crashing water began to echo in front of them, getting louder with each step. Their path sloped upward, carrying them forward at a steep incline, twigs and leaves crunching beneath their feet as they went. Lexa pulled Clarke through a break in the trees, and watched her blue eyes go wide as she took in the sight._ _

__They stood atop a hill, looking down at a majestic waterfall as it poured its contents into a clear pool below, the water frothing white where it landed. The moon was bright overhead, reflecting off the pool in shimmering shades of silver, dancing over the ripples on the surface. Bright luminescent moss hung on the rocks, glowing the same fluorescent green as Lexa’s eyes, pulsing softly as if a heart beat beneath it. Fireflies zipped through the air in pops of red and flashes of yellow, humming brightly before disappearing into the dark. They looked like shooting stars, leaving glowing trails behind them that hung in the air long after they were gone. The entire scene was something out of a dream and Clarke found it hard to believe that anything so completely pure and untouched could exist in a world that was marred with so much death and destruction._ _

__“Lexa,” she gasped, struggling to put thoughts to words. “It’s beautiful.”_ _

__Lexa nodded, lost in Clarke’s eyes as she drank in the sight and not at all focusing on anything other than the expression of awe on Clarke's face. “Anya used to bring me here as a child,” she said, her voice soft and filled with longing. “When I woke from dreams in the middle of the night.”_ _

__Clarke peeled herself from the view to spare a glance at Lexa, reading the slight shift of pain on her soft features. She looked stunning in the pale moonlight, but there was a sadness hidden in her eyes that pierced Clarke’s heart like a knife. Clarke let her grip on Lexa’s hand tighten, realizing that this place was sacred to her. It was a cherished memory of her past, forever lost to the harshness of reality, and yet she'd chosen to share it with Clarke._ _

__“Do you miss her?” Clarke asked._ _

__Lexa nodded once, but it was a long time before she spoke again, letting the noises of the night fill the air between them. “Pain is everywhere in this world, Clarke,” she whispered, almost like it was a payer. “But we may find solace in the moments of beauty too.”_ _

__Clarke stared at Lexa, unable to imagine that anything could ever be more beautiful than the strong, broken, brilliant, woman in front of her. They stood there, hand in hand, letting the sound of the crashing water chase away any remnants of the nightmares that had lingered in the back of their minds. Without a thought, Clarke stepped closer, letting her arms circle Lexa's neck as the Commander's hands found themselves resting timidly on her waist. Their gazes fell upon each other and in that moment, in that place, the earth knew what it was like to hold the sky._ _

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

__They returned to TonDC with the rising of the sun, basking in the warmth of its dawning light. Lexa released her hold of Clarke’s hand as they neared the village, beginning her transition from the soft and caring woman that Clarke knew in private, to the picture of stoic strength and wisdom that was Heda, Commander of the Coalition._ _

__Lexa held her spine rigid and her chin high, carrying herself proudly as the village came to life before them. Her presence was both imposing and calming, and Clarke could see the way the Grounders eyed her with revelry. Lexa was loved by her people and feared by her enemies, yet beholden to them all, bound by honor and duty. She was freedom, but she was also a prisoner._ _

__Clarke watched the way she transformed before her eyes and felt warmth spring up in her chest and between her thighs, transfixed by the beautiful mystery that was the Commander. She didn’t know what it was that they shared, or what it meant, but she felt it deep in her bones that her very existence was tied to this girl. The bond they shared was strong and intimate, and burning, but it was also shrouded in darkness and tainted by death. They were one in the same, equal in the burdens they shared and the pain that followed them like a shadow, yet they were also worlds apart._ _

__Their relationship had been born out of necessity, forced together by fate and a common enemy, but it was their innate understanding of each other that drew them ever closer. Lexa understood Clarke in a way that nobody else ever could, and gave her the compassion and forgiveness that she could not give herself. And Clarke knew that despite her often impassive exterior, she had come to provide Lexa with the escape and the brief moments of respite that they stole away with each other in the shadows of the night._ _

__She didn’t know what it meant for her future or the future of her people, she didn’t know if she wanted more of Lexa or less, she didn’t know where it would lead her or if they would ever act on the undeniable force between them. What Clarke did know was that Lexa made her feel like she could be whole again, damaged, but whole, and that is exactly what she needed right now._ _

__They walked through the gate and watched the village stir in the early morning light as dozens of Grounders emerged from huts and tents to begin their day. A hunting party disappeared into the woods while carpenters and blacksmiths set to work on the restoration efforts, and soon the town was bustling. Lexa’s guard, a group of warriors charged with overseeing her safety on her travels, stood huddled around their horses, strapping saddles and gear into place and preparing for their ride to Polis._ _

__They had just reached the village center wen Indra emerged from a nearby tent, two other Grounders fast on her heels, and an expression of disgust written on her hardened features. “Commander,” she said as they approached, her voice filled with a noticeable measure of urgency. “May I have a word?”_ _

__Lexa exchanged a quick glance with Clarke, as if asking her to stay put, before nodding and following Indra away. “What has happened?” Clarke heard the Commander ask just before they stepped out of earshot._ _

__Clarke watched Lexa from a distance, observing the way she held her hands clasped behind her back and the expression of complete composure she kept on her face when in the presence of her people. She caught sight of Lexa’s shoulders stiffening as Indra leaned in to say something in her ear, keeping her voice too low to hear. Lexa again nodded once and then she spoke to Indra’s companions, giving orders of some sort, and then a moment later they both bowed and turned away. Each of the men hopped onto a saddled horse and fled with speed into the forest in opposite directions, clearly on a mission of great importance. Lexa and Indra exchanged words for another minute before Indra threw a discerning glance at Clarke and then disappeared into the hut again._ _

__Lexa returned to Clarke, her expression giving away nothing of the conversation that had just taken place, though Clarke could see a trace of uneasiness hidden behind those haunting green eyes. “Everything okay?” Clarke asked._ _

__“Nothing to worry about, Clarke,” Lexa replied, though her tone was heavy. “We should leave for Polis. My absence has been noted.”_ _

__Clarke gave her a sidelong glance, trying to read something in her features, but resigned to defeat and let the subject drop. “Will Indra be joining us?” she questioned, thinking she may be able to draw details from the other woman._ _

__Lexa turned and waited for Clarke to fall into stride beside her. “Indra will remain here and oversee the reconstruction efforts in my stead,” she offered, giving no further explanation. “Come, if we leave now, we can make it to Polis by sun down.”_ _

__The Commander led Clarke over to where her guards waited atop their mounts, guiding her to two saddled horses, prepped and ready for their departure. Clarke had seen Lexa’s horse before; a regal white mare that stood as beautiful and imposing as her rider, fit to command attention just as easily as respect. A brown stallion shuffled in place beside her, eager to run, and Lexa helped Clarke up into the saddle before mounting her own steed in one effortless motion._ _

__Clarke felt her stomach knot at the sight of Lexa on her horse, and tried to push the warming feeling between her legs aside. “Move out!” Lexa commanded, spurring her horse into motion._ _

__The guards fanned out around them on the trail as they went, encompassing Lexa and Clarke in a protective barrier should danger arise. With the Mountain Men dead, Clarke wondered what the Commander of the Coalition would need protecting from if not the Reapers. But then she remembered that the coalition itself was fragile, and there was no telling how many enemies Lexa had made over the years. No matter what decisions she made as a leader or what sacrifices she made for the well being of her people, Lexa would always be in danger, Clarke understood that. And the thought made her insides twist._ _

__The road to Polis was long, but it was a straight shot, and they moved at a steady pace as the trees flew by around them. Lexa rode beside Clarke, their feet brushing every few seconds as they bounced up and down in their saddles. Clarke glanced over at the Commander, her brown hair falling in loose waves down her back and her cheeks red against the biting autumn wind. She wore her shoulder armor, having strapped it into place just after their departure, and her red cape cascaded down the flanks of her horse like blood against snow. Her sword was strapped to her side and Clarke thought she looked stunning atop the powerful mount, a goddess among men._ _

__The last time Clarke had seen Lexa like this, hardened and fierce before the admiring eyes of her warriors, was right before the attack on Mount Weather. Clarke replayed the moment that the Commander turned her back and left her people to die in her head. It stung like a slap to the face, and she had to remind herself again that Lexa had, and always would, do what was best for her people._ _

__“What is troubling you, Clarke?” Lexa asked as if again reading her mind. Did she really understand her that well, or was she just that transparent?_ _

__“Have you ever thought about just walking away from it all?” Clarke found herself asking before she could stop it._ _

__Lexa looked surprised by the question, as if it was not at all what she had expected. “Do you mean walking away from my duty as Commander?”_ _

__“Wouldn’t it be easier?” Clarke asked. “Your life would be your own. Your people—_ _

__“My people need me, Clarke,” she answered before she could finish, though her tone was gentle. She breathed a deep sigh and Clarke watched her shoulders fall. “I would be lying to you if I said I have not thought about it. Especially after…” Lexa let her words trail off._ _

__“After Mount Weather,” Clarke finished for her. She knew that Lexa had made the decision that night knowing that it would hurt Clarke and whatever had been building between them in the days prior would be lost. Little did she know that whatever it was between them was stronger now than ever before._ _

__Lexa nodded and Clarke could see some measure of an internal battle going on in the green of her eyes. “I am not like you, Clarke,” she said after a moment of silence. “I cannot leave when I choose and lead only when my people need me. I cannot leave the fate of my people in the hands of others while I fall apart in the arms of someone else. Not when we are this close.”_ _

__Her words were not intended to offend and for the first time, Clarke could see the vast differences in the weight of responsibility they each carried. Clarke could walk away and leave her people to the leadership of Abby and Kane, just as she had done five days ago. Lexa did not have the same luxury. “This close to what?” Clarke asked._ _

__“Peace,” Lexa replied, her voice just louder than a whisper as if saying the word too loudly would put it beyond reach; that one simple word for which Clarke had almost forgotten the meaning of since setting foot on the ground. “My people have been at war for a hundred years, Clarke. It is all we have ever known; war and death, and the struggle for power. You may think it’s harsh, but it is—_ _

__“How we survive,” Clarke finished, remembering their conversation from the night before Mount Weather. She also remembered what had happened right after when Lexa had kissed her, turning her entire world on end._ _

__“I don’t want my people to just survive anymore, Clarke. I want them to live,” Lexa said. “I want the children to grow up with both of their parents, and for the only swords they wield to be made of wood for play instead of to kill. I want the clans to know each other as brothers instead of enemies and for the people to flourish beside each other rather than perish at each other’s throats,” she admitted, her face lighting up as she talked about it._ _

__“You have a vision, Commander,” Clarke replied, feeling a smile spread over her lips and a deep sense of pride well in her chest._ _

__Lexa nodded. “Yes, Clarke,” she whispered. “Long after I am gone, I want my legacy to be a lasting peace. With the Mountain Men fallen, we are closer now than ever before.”_ _

__“What’s standing in the way of that?” Clarke asked._ _

__The look of hope that had settled over Lexa’s features quickly fell away and changed to one of sadness. “There are people that would seek to ensure dissension,” she replied. “Those that would see all the other clans fall just to see their own rise. Those that would depose me at the first sign of weakness, who even now move to rally against me.”_ _

___“Azgeda.”_ _ _

__Lexa solemnly nodded her confirmation. “And a few others that would seek to profit from a new Commander,” she replied. “That is why the duty to my people must always come first, Clarke. That is why I can never show weakness, or mercy, and it is why I can never leave. The moment my ambassadors think that I am unfit to lead, they can vote to overthrow me, and all hope for peace would be lost.”_ _

__Clarke felt her head reel back in shock. “They can actually depose you?”_ _

__“There are three ways for which the Commander can be removed from power, Clarke,” Lexa explained. “The first of which requires a unanimous vote from all ambassadors of the twelve clans. The second is single combat in which the respective clan leader can put forth a champion to challenge the Commander in a fight to the death.”_ _

__“And the third?” Clarke asked._ _

__“The most common of the three,” Lexa replied. “Death.”_ _

__Clarke’s heart sank in her chest as fear gripped her and she felt her palms moisten around the reins of her saddle. “Is that what Indra told you back in TonDC? That someone plans to challenge you?”_ _

__“No,” the Commander answered, and Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. “Though Ice Nation does move against my orders._ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__Lexa shifted in her saddle, letting her hand fall on the hilt of the sword at her hip, almost as if it were an automatic reaction at the mention of Ice Nation. “ _Azgeda_ mobilizes its army,” she replied. “That is what Indra told me in TonDC.”_ _

__“But with the Mountain Men dead, what other threat does Ice Nation see fit to march against?” Clarke asked, though the moment she said it, she felt a wave of panic surge through her. Lexa glanced away, keeping her gaze trained forward as the question hung in the air between them. “Lexa, are my people in danger?”_ _

__“No,” Lexa answered almost immediately. “For now, _Azgeda_ remains within their own borders. I have scouts monitoring them, and should anything change, we would have fair warning.”_ _

__“ _Skaikru_ is not part of the coalition. If Ice Nation marches on them—_ _

__“They wont. I will put a peace treaty in place as soon as we arrive in Polis.”_ _

__Clarke felt the panic shooting through her nerves begin to ease. Lexa was so calm and so absolute in her rationale, it was hard to believe that anything was ever beyond her control. “Will they honor it?” she asked._ _

__“They will have no choice.”_ _

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

__They arrived in Polis just as the sun began to dip behind the horizon in the west, staining the sky in milky shades of orange and blue. The city gate was tall and the only thing beyond it that Clarke could see was a giant tower, crawling up into the low hanging clouds that shrouded the valley, a massive basin atop it cradling a flame like a beacon for the whole world to see. She imagined that the blazing yellow fire could be seen for miles around, even in the darkest of nights or the fiercest of storms._ _

__Clarke’s stomach twisted with excitement as she slid off her horse, legs stiff beneath her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Two guards came forward and bowed to Lexa in a show of respect before taking the horses reins from them and leading them towards a set of stables. The gates to the city stood open before them, as if beckoning to visitors to come inside, welcoming the world to see the splendors that lived within its walls._ _

__The city glowed with yellow lanterns in the fading daylight, strung from building to building as if lit by a running fuse and shining gold as far as the eye could see. The buildings themselves sprung up from the ground on all sides, some made of crumbling stone and looking as if they might be a hundred years old, and others made of brick and wood as if they were the products of a marriage between old and new. The streets were narrow, winding between houses like a maze, and dotted with people as they went about their evening routines._ _

__Vendors stood behind wooden carts, peddling their wares or selling food, and the overwhelming scent of dozens of different meats cooking wafted through the air. Children played tag and darted about, chasing after each other and hollering in fits of laughter and joy. In the center of Polis stood the tower she had seen from a distance, snaking up above them as far as the eye could see, like a giant standing guard over the thousands of people below._ _

__Clarke felt the sting of tears in her eyes at the city crawling with life before her. After so much violence and death since her arrival on the ground, she never thought she would ever see anything so completely beautiful and so very alive. She glanced over at Lexa and found the Commander staring at her, a small smile hidden in the corners of her mouth. “Welcome to Polis, Clarke,” she said._ _

__Clarke returned the grin and couldn’t prevent the tears from falling down her cheeks. In this moment, surrounded by all this life, and standing next to this woman, she felt free. Free from the death that tainted her heart and tried to claw its way back in each time she pushed it out, free from the decisions that dragged at her conscience like a ball and chain, free from the consequences that came with them. In this moment, she knew she was home._ _

__“Breathe, Clarke,” Lexa whispered._ _

__“It’s beautiful,” Clarke gasped, unable to find any other word to describe the sprawling city before her._ _

__Lexa’s smile grew slightly wider, and it was clear that she was struggling to maintain the impassive Commander façade. “I told you Polis would change the way you think about us,” she whispered._ _

__Their eyes met, and Clarke felt her heartbeat kick up in her chest. “You already have,” she replied, meaning it as much now as she had the first time she said it._ _

__Lexa held her gaze for a moment, promise and adoration brimming her green eyes, before starting forward through the dusty streets. “Come, Clarke,” she said. “There is more to see.”_ _

__The guards that had accompanied them from TonDC fanned out and now followed them from the shadows as they made their way towards the tower at the center of the city. Other guards stood at their posts, bowing to Lexa as they strode by, and it was clear that Polis was very well protected. The people called to Lexa when they made their way past, some bowed, some reached out to grab her hand, others offered up food and words of praise._ _

__She took the time to stop and acknowledge each and every one, clasping forearms in greeting or simply exchanging comfort through a gentle hand on the shoulder. Clarke watched the way she interacted with the citizens, showing them equal respect and kindness, and she could see in those mesmerizing green eyes the utter love and devotion Lexa had for her people. She cared for each one individually, and they loved her with the same passion and commitment that she gave to them._ _

__Clarke looked on with a sense of longing and pride, feeling that warm sensation sweep over her body again. She understood now why Lexa would sacrifice her own life and her own happiness for the sake of her people, and she could see that any one of them would do the same for her._ _

__A vendor handed Lexa a skewer of roasted meat, and she thanked him, taking a bite before passing it over to Clarke to try. She sunk her teeth into it, feeling her mouth fill with the succulent juices and flavors. It was the most amazing thing she had ever tasted and the vendor smiled at her wide-eyed reaction, bowing and thanking her in _Trigedasleng_._ _

__A woman approached them, clad in a simple blue dress and wearing strains of intricate braids in her shoulder length black hair. Her skin was pale and she was so thin that it looked like she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in month, but she wore a soft and complacent grin on her weathered face as if she was just happy to be alive. Deep wrinkles framed her kind brown eyes, snaking out from the corners and alight with years of wisdom. Clarke waited, assuming she wanted a moment with the Commander, but was surprised when the woman stopped in front of her instead._ _

__“Are you Clarke of the Sky People?” she asked, her voice soft and full of wonder._ _

__Clarke glanced at Lexa for support, and found a quizzical look on her face instead. “I am,” Clarke replied._ _

__Tears filled the woman’s eyes and before Clarke could react, she was wrapping her arms around her in a gentle embrace. “Thank you,” the woman whispered, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s cheek before pulling away. “I was one of the many trapped in the mountain. You helped set me free. You both did,” she said, taking Lexa’s hand in hers._ _

__Clarke felt tears in her eyes again, welling up and threatening to spill over. Even in moments of absolute joy and awe, reminders of what she did in Mount Weather were everywhere. The tears escaped, sliding slowly down her cheeks, and she couldn’t tell if she was crying out of pain and self-loathing, or out of relief that this woman had been saved. “You’re welcome,” Clarke rasped behind a sob._ _

__The woman reached up and swiped the tears from where they pooled on Clarke’s chin, and then pulled them each in for one last hug before disappearing into the crowd again. Clarke watched her fade away, wondering if there were any more reminders lurking around the next corner, or if she would come across other survivors that managed to recognize her too._ _

__“You see, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “Life emerged from that mountain, too.”_ _

__Lexa’s fingers slid down over Clarke’s hand and she ushered her quietly between buildings, taking a less populated root to the tower that now loomed directly above them. Clarke looked up at it, craning her neck all the way back just to see the top. The building must have been a hundred stories tall, and some floors looked completely uninhabited, the windows black against the night, while others were alight and bursting with candlelight._ _

__“What is this place?” Clarke asked, unable to hide the amazement she was feeling from her voice._ _

__“This is my home,” Lexa replied, pulling Clarke into a dark passageway, letting the building swallow them up._ _

__Inside, the hallway was lit by wall lamps, the candles in them flickering playfully against the stone walls. Guards meandered about, disappearing into doorways and standing at attention as Lexa passed by. She led Clarke to the end of the hallway where two elevator doors stood open, waiting for them. Off to the side was some sort of lever and pulley system, anchored to a wooden wheel that sent the elevator lurching upward when the Grounder manning it pushed it clockwise._ _

__Lexa led Clarke into the elevator and slid the door shut behind them as they began their ascent towards the vast tower above. They rode in silence for what felt like an hour, Clarke far too overwhelmed to speak, before the elevator came to a gentle stop on the highest floor. The Commander pulled the door open, revealing another hallway, this one adorned in lavish paintings and lit by soft yellow candlelight. Clarke stared at the paintings feeling a sudden rush of longing, yearning for a paintbrush and canvas of her own so that she could create something rather than destroy._ _

__There was a set of wooden double doors on the right, and Lexa shoved them open, giving Clarke a quick guided tour. “This is the throne room,” she said, stepping aside so that Clarke could enter behind her. “I will be holding council in here in the morning.”_ _

__The hall was grand with high vaulted ceilings and ornate wooden chandeliers that hung down from above them, chained in place and lit with hundreds of dancing candles. A red carpet was splayed down the center of the room, leading up a couple of steps to a throne that looked like an exact replica of the one in Lexa’s tent, lavish and carved from wood, steel and the antlers of half a dozen deer. To the left and right of the carpet, there were six chairs on each side, arranged in a semi-circle and facing towards the throne at the center of the room. Back by the doors, two fire basins were lit, popping and cracking in the silence of the night, casting shadows over the guards that stood sentry. Behind the throne, there was a balcony that overlooked all of Polis, and Clarke could see clear out to Mount Weather in the distance, dark against the light of the moon._ _

__“It’s getting late,” Lexa said, drawing Clarke’s gaze away from the view that the balcony presented. “I will show you to your room.”_ _

__Lexa led Clarke back through the hallway, taking her to the very end where two more sets of doors stood directly across from each other. The Commander turned the handles and let the doors swing open in front of her, holding out a hand to usher Clarke inside._ _

__The room was again lit in hundreds of candles, similar to the way Lexa’s tent had been, with candles of all different shapes and sizes strewn about the floor and on tables or resting on stands. Clarke idly wondered if perhaps beneath that strong exterior, the Commander was harboring some small fear of the dark, but the thought slipped away as she caught sight of the bed. The frame was oak, hand carved and polished in an intricate design, spiraling down and across the base, and holding a mattress that was adorned in dozens of plush furs and blankets. It looked so comfortable that Clarke thought she might melt into it the moment she laid down._ _

__Across the room, there were two more doors leading out to a balcony of her own, the city lights twinkling far below and she thought that this might be what the Earth looked like from space before the war destroyed it all. To the right, she could make out a bathroom through another door, a wash basin sitting in front of a full length mirror. In the center of her room was a couch, ordained with throw pillows and looking almost as comfortable as the bed. Beside it was a table piled high with fruits, bread, cheese, and smoked meats, as if someone had prepared for their arrival._ _

__“Will this suit you, Clarke?” Lexa asked softly, her voice bringing Clarke back from the brink of astonishment._ _

__“It’s perfect, Lexa,” she replied. “Thank you.”_ _

__The Commander gave her a soft smile, her green eyes glowing brightly in the candlelight. “How do you find Polis?” she asked._ _

__Clarke felt her own smile spread across her face. “It’s better than I ever imagined it would be,” she replied, and it was the honest truth. She had never seen anything so amazing in all her life._ _

__Lexa nodded, her expression tender as her gaze met Clarke’s. “There is much more for you to see tomorrow,” she said._ _

__“I can’t wait,” Clarke replied._ _

__The air fell silent around them, tension hanging in the space between their bodies. They were so close together that Clarke could feel the warmth radiating off of Lexa’s skin, and she couldn’t help but reach out and take her hand. Their eyes remained locked, and Clarke wondered if Lexa could hear the way her heart was beating in her chest, as if trying to break free. Lexa’s gaze fell on Clarke’s lips, then back up to her eyes again, her mouth falling open and then closing slowly as if she couldn’t find the words she was looking to say._ _

__“I should let you rest, Clarke,” she whispered, stepping back ever so slightly to put a few more inches of space between them._ _

__Clarke nodded, feeling a bit of disappointment rush through her, cooling the blood that was pounding in her veins. “Okay,” she replied, letting Lexa’s hand slide from her grasp._ _

__Lexa let her gaze linger on Clarke’s lips for a moment longer before peeling herself away and turning to leave. “Goodnight, Clarke,” she called when her back was to her, hiding the disappointment in her own eyes._ _

__Clarke was silent for a moment, letting a battle between her head and her heart rage in her body before letting her heart win out. “Lexa, wait,” she called, stopping the Commander dead in her tracks. Lexa did not move and did not reply either, but simply waited, holding her breath. “Would you stay with me tonight?” Clarke asked._ _

__The Commander was silent for a moment. “Is that what you would like, Clarke?” Lexa asked, still facing the door._ _

__“Yes,” Clarke breathed, answering a bit faster than she had intended. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight,” she admitted._ _

__Lexa turned, her features impassive as always, but her eyes were bright. “Very well,” she replied. “I will stay on the couch.”_ _

__“You don’t have to do that,” Clarke stated, pulling off her boots and throwing her coat aside before stepping out of her pants. The grounder undergarments were similar to shorts and she knew she would sleep much better in them, though she took pleasure in watching Lexa squirm as she half undressed herself. “The bed is big enough for us both,” she said, pulling back the covers and climbing beneath them._ _

__Lexa stayed rooted in place and for the first time, Clarke saw a flurry of emotions leak past her guarded exterior. “Are you sure?” she asked, not wanting to over step any boundaries._ _

__“Just blow out the candles and get in bed, Lexa,” Clarke replied, stifling back a yawn._ _

__The Commander nodded and then shifted around the room, putting the candles out one by one. Clarke felt herself drifting off to sleep when the last of the light began to fade out. “Can we leave this one lit?” Lexa asked softly, spurring her back into a half state of consciousness._ _

__Clarke felt herself smile into her pillow. “Yes,” she whispered, and felt her heart melting. "Are you afraid of the dark, Lex?" she asked, voice drowsy but very aware of the nickname she let slip out and the natural feeling of it sent her insides tingling._ _

__"No," Lexa replied a bit too quickly and Clarke felt a wider grin spread across her cheeks that she kept hidden within the folds of her pillow._ _

__A moment later, the mattress beside her sunk with Lexa’s weight, but the she did not climb beneath the covers. She sat a distance away from Clarke, careful to keep a small measure of space between their bodies, but close enough to let her know that she was there. Clarke breathed a deep sigh, letting herself drift slowly and taking comfort in knowing that Lexa was with her, praying that the dreams would not find her again this night._ _

__“I will be right here, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, and her voice was the last thing Clarke heard before falling deeply into the void._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Clarke and Lexa seem to be the only two people capable of understanding each other. There's still clearly a lot of pain there, but it's heating up a bit. I can't wait to show you guys a bit more of Lexa's past, and we will definitely be getting into that in the next few sections. There's also trouble brewing with Ice Nation, and those shifty fucks are clearly up to no good, so stay tuned to see what's up with that.
> 
> P.S. (Yes, our smol gay Heda is afraid of the dark).
> 
> See you next Friday!!


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everybody! So, if you've been with me this far, then you know that Clarke is clearly struggling with her emotions in ways that she has not been able to quite figure out yet. A lot of her confusion revolves around Lexa and the things she feels for her even when she tries not to. Going forward, we will see a bit more of Lexa's past and her continued efforts to help Clarke learn to forgive herself for her actions. We also get to meet some familiar characters in this section. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the support and the kudos!
> 
> \- Alex

Clarke found herself sprinting through the forest, branches and thick underbrush snagging at her clothes and hair reaching out for her as if they were alive. A feeling of utter terror rushed through her bones, shaking her to the core, while somewhere in the distance the loud blast of a horn sounded. The acid fog welled up around her, devouring the trees like a wildfire, green and thick and pungent with chemicals and death, souring the air. 

She felt her legs give out, tripping and tumbling to the ground in a heap of limbs as the lumbering fog bank swallowed her whole. Her lungs and throat burned as if she had inhaled hot coals and her skin started to peel away, melting off her body as she screamed and screamed. She shut her eyes, shielding them from the acid that had begun to seep deep into her pores.

The pain faded away and Clarke thought that maybe the acid cloud had ended her, but when she opened her eyes again, her skin was unmarred and her body intact, unstained and unharmed. She hovered over a boy who had not been as fortunate; his skin was raw and red, oozing blood and pus beneath layers of blisters. His eyes were cloudy, a sickening shade of milky blue and green as if his corneas had exploded and he blinked rapidly again and again like the little motion would somehow bring back his sight. He struggled for air, breathing raggedly through labored wheezing gasps, wet and ripe with blood.

“Atom,” Clarke whispered, feeling the moisture of tears slide down her cheeks. 

The boy’s trembling hand closed loosely around her wrist as he struggled to find his voice. “Kill me,” he pleaded, skin sweltering hot against her own.

“No,” she replied, though she had already reached for the knife at her belt. Surely this was mercy, not murder?

“Kill…me…” he begged again, choking on the blood that had begun to flood his throat and spill down his quaking chin.

Clarke took a steadying breath, biting back the tears that continued to crowd her eyesight as she pressed the knife to the thin layer of flesh just above his carotid artery. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, pressing down on the blade with the weight of her body. 

She watched as Atom sputtered and spewed blood, gagging on it as it drained from his open vein. The life faded from his clouded eyes as he took his last pained breath, and then he was gone.

Suddenly, Clarke wasn’t watching Atom die anymore, she was watching Maya, her black hair falling in waves behind her pale face. She was limp in Jasper’s arms, her skin bubbling as the radiation sucked the life from her body. She did not scream, but a single tear escaped her dull eyes as hundreds of her people slipped into the clutches of death on the floor and in chairs around her. This was a tomb, and Clarke had sealed the door, stealing away like a grave robber in the night and taking all of their lives with her. The air smelled rotten with melted flesh, and Clarke struggled to breathe, gasping for air as Maya drifted into oblivion right before her. 

Clarke shot up in bed, still gasping as if being strangled, tears stinging her eyes as a pained sob escaped her trembling lips. Lexa shifted on the bed beside her, instantly running soothing hands down her back. “You’re okay,” she cooed, her voice soft, almost as if she was worried Clarke would shatter if she spoke too loud.

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed, struggling to find her bearings. She was not in Mount Weather with Jasper and Maya; she was in Polis, in bed beside the Commander.

The single candle that Lexa had left lit flickered from across the room, chasing away the darkness with the same intensity that Lexa tried to chase away the nightmare with. “I’m here, Clarke,” she said, letting her fingers find Clarke’s. “It’s over now.”

Clarke felt her shoulders relax and her breathing grow even as the fear that had gripped her melted away beneath Lexa’s touch. She let herself fall back again, lowering herself onto her elbow and leaning over Lexa in the dark. The Commander’s hand came up to rest timidly atop her collarbone, tracing it gently with her thumb before letting it fall away. The moment was soft and intimate, and almost out of place following the horror she’d just seen. A sharp jolt in her heart made itself known, urging her to pull away, reminding her of the betrayal that still stung deep in her bones. 

Instead, Clarke reached up and found Lexa’s face, running a gentle touch down her smooth cheek, tracing her sharp jawline back and forth and using her memory to make out her features in the dark. The Commander flinched beneath her touch, gasping sharply and reminding Clarke that Lexa too held fears and trepidations of her own despite her steely exterior. The sharp intake of breath was enough to pull pain from Clarke’s heart in a way that she had never known before. It wasn’t the type of pain that one feels with grief or anger, but instead a pounding steady ache that left her dizzy and dazed and threatened to pull new tears from her eyes. It was raw and new, and baffling.

Lexa still sat apart from her in the same position they hade fallen asleep in, taking careful measure not to cross some invisible line, and Clarke huddled beneath the blankets while Lexa rested atop them, adding another barrier between their bodies. The distance between them felt too great, and Clarke found herself shifting closer without thought, as if their bodies were drawn together like two magnets. She could feel the Commander’s heat through the sheets and she took comfort from it, allowing their intimate proximity to warm the ice in her soul. Their faces were just inches apart now, and she could feel the puffs of Lexa’s trembling breath on her lips.

They lay there, barely breathing, neither of them willing to move, yet both of them burning to be closer. They didn’t speak, but simply just clung to each other, holding tightly to the one thing they both desperately wanted: each other. Clarke did not need Lexa, not to survive or to protect her, not even to chase the demons away in the night. But she wanted her. She wanted the one person who would understand her pain without having to ask, and the one person who would never reserve judgment for her actions. She wanted the person that found beauty in the world even though it was a terrible, dangerous, twisted place and found peace in moments that never lasted long but always searched for more.

“Lexa?” Clarke whispered, worried that she may have fallen asleep.

“I’m here, Clarke,” Lexa replied, shifting even closer still.

Clarke let her hand trail down Lexa’s arm, then back up again. “Am I a murderer?” she asked, allowing her insecurities to win out in a brief moment of weakness in the flickering light of a single candle. A part of her just needed to know what she looked like through the eyes of the woman before her.

Lexa was silent a moment before answering and Clarke found her insides twisting in knots. “Are warriors that strike down their enemies in battle murderers?” Lexa asked.

“No,” Clarke answered without hesitation. “They’re just doing their duty to their people.”

“As were you, Clarke,” Lexa replied, her voice tender and pleading, willing Clarke to hear the truth in her words. “The decisions we make for our people do not define who we are. It is how we choose to live with those decisions that does.”

Clarke was quiet for a long while, rolling over and letting the words sink in. Pulling that lever had not made her a murderer, her own guilt had. She was at war, fighting for her people, and there had been casualties on both sides. She pulled that lever because she had been strong enough to do it, and now she needed to be strong enough to live with it. Lexa could show her how, but it was up to her to find the courage to do it.

Lexa surprised her when she spoke again without prompt. “Our grief is like the ocean, Clarke,” she whispered. “Sometimes it is wild and uncontrollable, while other times it is calm and forgiving. But most of the time it is just there, deep and dark and infinite, and all we can do is learn to swim.”

Clarke sensed the words pulling on the most guarded reaches of her heart and she was silent for a long time after that, needing to close her eyes and just let herself feel. She needed to feel the way the grief within her ebbed and flowed, and the way it bubbled up before washing back down. She needed to feel the abyss that struggled to pull her under and the way that it crashed over her in waves. She needed to feel the ocean, and she needed to know that she could float.

Clarke had not noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking through the pillow when words found her again. “Lexa?” she murmured, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

“Hmm?” Lexa asked, voice laced with sleep.

Clarke reached over and took Lexa’s hand in hers, slowly pulling her arm around her waist and listening as the Commander’s breath caught in her chest in what she assumed was shock. She waited for Lexa to pull back, and when she didn’t, Clarke allowed herself to nestle deeper into Lexa’s arms, their bodies fitting together as if made for each other. “I forgive you,” Clarke whispered, her voice no louder than the steady thrumming of Lexa’s beating heart pressed against her back.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The gentle beams of sunlight streaming through the curtains pulled Clarke from her dreamless oblivion. Lexa’s arms were still draped loosely around her waist and she rolled over slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes and tenderly trying not to wake the Commander. Lexa looked ethereal in the morning light, her pale skin flawless as waves of unruly brown hair shrouded her delicate face. She wore an expression of undisturbed peace, her plump lips soft and just barely parted as she breathed, and Clarke idly remembered how they tasted against her own. Lexa had fallen asleep atop the blankets in the same outfit she had worn the day before, though she was missing her boots and shoulder guard, and Clarke found them in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Clarke stared at the woman before her, unable to look away, that familiar warming sensation spreading through her chest and making her heart beat faster. She was so beautiful and so equally strong and pure, yet she was haunted, scarred by her past and carrying the weight of a civilization on her shoulders. Clarke wondered how she could ever sleep at all and longed to know what was hidden in her dreams.

“You’re staring, Clarke,” Lexa said, shattering Clarke’s wandering train of thought, though her eyes remained closed.

“I thought you were asleep,” Clarke admitted, bashfully. 

Lexa’s green eyes popped open, squinting in the morning light and glazed with exhaustion. “Sleep does not come to me as easily as it used to,” she replied, an edge of disappointment hanging in her soft voice.

Clarke nodded her understanding, knowing better than anyone the terrors that lurked in the realm of unconsciousness. “Thank you for last night,” she said. “For calming me down.”

“Thank you for forgiving me,” Lexa answered. Her gaze found Clarke’s, a hint of deep regret smoldering in those impassable features. “I never meant to do this to you,” she said, letting her hand slide over Clarke’s cheek.

“You didn’t,” Clarke whispered, knowing with certainty that Lexa held herself responsible for the events that had occurred in Mount Weather. 

Maybe that’s why now she took such unending care with Clarke. Maybe she felt that it was her duty to make amends for the pain she played a hand in. Or maybe she just truly cared. She watched the Commander’s eyes fall, seeing in them the disbelief she carried at hearing Clarke’s words, and she couldn’t tell if she was ashamed or embarrassed. Clarke let her grip close around Lexa’s wrist, willing her to hear the truth in what she had said. 

They would never really know, but there was truly only one way that Mount Weather could have ended. The Mountain Men could not have survived without the dialysis transfusions they had been harvesting the Grounders for, or the bone marrow transplants they had aimed to steal from the Sky People. Could they have every truly existed peacefully? After a hundred years of torturing and killing and ravaging the twelve clans?

No. People do what they must to survive, Clarke knew that. And with the technology in Mount Weather, it would have been just a matter of time before they launched an attack of their own. They would never really know, but had Lexa stayed and had that night gone according to plan, Clarke suspected it would have ended the same way. She may have pulled the trigger, but Mount Weather signed their own death warrant when they started harvesting live humans. The same had gone for Finn; Clarke may have ended his life, but Finn killed himself when he slaughtered a village of innocent people. She understood that now, though it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Where are your thoughts, Clarke?” Lexa asked, drawing her back in.

Clarke gazed down at her, pressing her cheek further in to Lexa’s palm. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.

Lexa let her hand fall away, forcing herself off the bed and out of Clarke’s warm grasp, ending the conversation prematurely. “I have to dress for the council assembly,” she said, the tenderness gone from her voice as she began her transition back to Heda. “Will you be content in here while I am gone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Clarke replied, not attempting to keep the displeasure from her voice. She wished that they could just enjoy the morning together, but she knew the Commander had pressing matters to attend to.

Lexa nodded, pulling on her boots before shuffling towards the door. Her gaze lingered on Clarke, blonde hair tousled and messy, blue eyes shining in the morning light like the sun reflecting off a deep pool. “I will return in a few hours, Clarke,” Lexa called, prying herself away. “There will be a servant in the hallway should you need anything.”

“Commander!” Clarke replied quickly, stopping Lexa halfway out the door. “My people—

“Will be safe, Clarke,” Lexa supplied, calming her nerves with a few simple words. She let their gazes linger a moment longer before letting the door close behind her and leaving Clarke alone with her thoughts.

Clarke sighed into the silence, hunger rumbling through her stomach as she realized that the only food she had eaten the day before was the meat skewer from the street vendor. She picked herself up out of bed, joints popping and aching from disuse, and dragged herself over to the table of food that had been prepared for them the night before. The meats and fruits were still fresh, savory against her lips as she filled her stomach.

She wandered to the balcony, looking out over the city that buzzed with life far below her. In the light of day, it was more vast than Clarke had originally thought, stretching out for miles in every direction, all converging on the very spot in which she now stood. In the distance, she could see the tree line, rolling green forests expanding as far as the eye could see. Below, she could hear the echoes of vendors calling, and as the breeze shifted, she caught the subtle scent of roasting meats on the wind. Mount Weather loomed like a shadow over it all, and she had to draw her gaze away from it as a chill snaked up her spine.

The sight overwhelmed her, filling her with a sudden sense of urgency and pulsing desire to create. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten what it felt like be inspired, and Clarke let a smile spread across her lips. She rushed back into the room, not wanting the feeling to fade, and quickly shuffled the food from the table then tugged free the white linen cloth from beneath it. She laid it out on the floor of the balcony, weighing down the corners with candlesticks before darting back into the room. She went to the armoire and rummaged through the drawers, looking for something, anything, that she could draw with.

When she came away empty, she let a feeling of despair wash over her, but the emotion was fleeting and a new idea quickly popped into her mind. Clarke went to the double doors and swung them open with force, finding a servant waiting in the hallway just as Lexa had promised.

The woman was young, perhaps not much older than Clarke, and she wore an eager smile on her plump round face. Her skin was ghostly white and blotched with freckles that splashed across her nose and cheeks, dotting her flesh like constellations. She wore simple Grounder attire, strapped and laced in separate tan and brown pieces to form a single whole, and her red hair was pulled in a single braid behind her head. 

“Um, hi,” Clarke said, bashfully.

“Is there something you require, _Heda kom Skaikru_?” the girl asked, addressing her in the formal Grounder manner. Her voice was sweet and she did not at all look troubled by having to wait outside a locked door all morning.

Clarke nodded. “Actually, there is,” she said.

The woman returned about ten minutes later with a basket of blackened charcoal of all different shapes and sizes and raging in color from gray to midnight black. Clarke took it appreciatively and disappeared back into her room, feeling a rush of unabated joy surge through her as she stood over her makeshift blank canvas. She snatched a knife from the table and quickly whittled strips of charcoal into sharpened and honed edges, creating her own tools with which she could practice her trade.

She knelt, selecting a freshly carved piece of coal and letting the first line of her sketch flow from her hand to the empty space in front of her. Clarke didn’t even notice the tears in her eyes as she drew the view of the city before her, capturing every detail in the warm morning light. It felt so good to be able to create rather than destroy, and in that moment, she was free. Free to laugh and free to cry, free to mourn and finally, free to heal.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke didn’t know how much time had gone by, so overwhelmed and completely engrossed in her work, she jumped when she heard a knock at the door behind her. “Come in!” she called, figuring it was Lexa returning from her war council.

She heard the doors swing open and close, rushing to fill the last lines of her drawing so that Lexa could see the finished product, but she turned when someone cleared their throat behind her. A man stood in the center of the room; he was older, his deep brown eyes framed in wrinkles, etched with years of knowledge: eyes that had seen countless sunrises, and had witnessed countless tragedies. He wore a long gray cloak, cascading all the way down to the floor, his hands folded somewhere in the baggy sleeves. His head was shaved cleanly, and Clarke could just barely see the shadow of gray stubble that dotted his chin.

“So you’re the one,” he mused, his voice deep and filled with an edge of agitation. “You’re the one that Lexa makes peace for.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to stand taller. “Lexa makes peace for herself,” Clarke snapped, defensively. 

The man took a step forward and Clarke felt the tinge of fear rush through her, seeing in his eyes the same look that the Ice Nation warrior had given her before he attempted to wring the life from her neck. “Your presence here puts her in danger. Your people—

“Titus!” Lexa shouted, appearing in the doorway, a look on her face that could shoot bullets.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Whatever audience you seek with Clarke, you may seek with me,” Lexa snapped, her tone commanding and laced with authority. 

She stood in the doorway, long brown hair braided intricately down her back and pulled away from her face. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt, a metal guarder ribbed across her abs and offset by her traditional shoulder armor, strapped across her chest with the crimson red cape sprawling behind her. Her boots were black, buckles running up the side the entire length of her calf and ending just below her knee where they met with skintight charcoal gray pants. She wore a guarder on her right thigh, strapped around snuggly with six small daggers hanging in place from it. Her eyes blazed a bright burning green, the golden cog symbol of the coalition resting at the center of her furrowed brow and she brandished an expression that could melt even the coldest frost.

“Forgive me, Heda,” Titus said, bowing his head before her. “I wished to see the legendary Wanheda for myself.”

“And?” Lexa asked, her very presence daunting as she took a single step into the room.

Titus held her gaze, communicating some unspoken message with his eyes. Clarke watched the exchange, seeing many years of conflict and understanding pass between the two as well as a great deal of respect. “She should not be here, Heda,” he repeated, though there was now a measure of softness to his voice. “If the ambassadors think—

Lexa held up a single hand, silencing him mid-sentence. “The ambassadors may think what they want. Clarke is my guest.”

“Lexa,” Titus began but quickly corrected himself when she cast him a pointed look. “Heda, we must act wisely.”

“The peace agreement has been reached, _Fleimkepa_ ,” Lexa said. “Do not cast shadow on this momentous day.”

Titus sighed deeply, shooting Clarke a searing glance. “Peace will only last as long as war does not seem the better option,” he said, his words veiled in doubt and carrying a hidden threat.

“I will not hear any more of this today,” Lexa replied, moving out of the doorway. “Leave us, Titus. Clarke and I have much to discuss,” she commanded.

His brow furrowed in rage and the muscles in his jaw clenched as if trying to bite back the words he wanted to say, but he bowed once and swept out of the room, not sparing a second glance at Clarke and letting the doors swing shut behind him. Lexa stood rigidly, her shoulders tense, but the moment he was out of the room, Clarke could see her breathe a sigh of relief, her posture relaxing. She turned her gaze towards Clarke, looking as if a hundred years of stress plagued her body, though she hid it well behind her stony expression. 

“I am sorry about that, Clarke,” she said, voice strained as if caught between Commander and the soft girl Clarke had fallen asleep with the night before and unsure of which one to be. “Titus means well.”

“What _did_ he mean, Lexa?” Clarke asked, moving away from where she was frozen in front of the balcony. “What was he talking about with the ambassadors?”

Lexa let out another long sigh and strode over to the couch at the center of the room, dropping herself into the seat as if collapsing from exhaustion; no longer able to support the weight she carried on her shoulders. “This morning a peace agreement was reached,” she said. “One that includes _Skaikru_.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Clarke asked, wandering over to the couch and sitting down beside Lexa. Their knees touched, sending a wave of sparks over Clarke’s bare skin, still wearing the short briefs she had slept in the night before. “Peace is what you wanted.”

“Peace is relative, Clarke, to those who aim for it,” Lexa replied, eyeing the space where their bodies met thought not shifting closer. “Some of the ambassadors still view the Sky People as a threat.”

Clarke felt the jolt of shock that she knew was noticeable on her face. “What? Why?” she asked.

“ _Skaikru_ are the only ones capable of using the technology in Mount Weather, Clarke. They worry your people may aim to use it against us at some point,” Lexa explained. “As…retribution.”

Clarke nodded her understanding, knowing that if her people ever again felt threatened by the Grounders, that it could be a very real possibility. Even more so without her there to talk them down. “So, what did you tell them?”

“I offered terms of peace,” Lexa replied, a hint of pride in her tone. “The armies of the Coalition will not mobilize without just cause and no person, Grounder or _Skaikru_ , will be permitted to enter Mount Weather. I’ve already dispatched a rider to Camp Jaha to relay the terms to your people.”

Clarke let her hand rest on Lexa’s knee, turning to meet the Commander’s eyes. “Thank you, Lexa,” she whispered, knowing that she had taken a great risk to ensure the safety of Clarke’s people in their peace agreement. “Kane and my mom will accept,” she said with complete confidence. Peace with the Grounders is what they had wanted since the rest of the Ark crashed to the ground, and forgoing the resources in Mount Weather was a small price to pay.

“You do not need to thank me, Clarke,” Lexa replied, glancing quickly away and unable to meet her gaze. “I am doing what is best for my people. A war with _Skaikru_ would result only in death,” she admitted.

Her words stung, though Clarke knew she had not intended them to. Her duty to her people would always come first; though she felt like part of her decision had been for Clarke’s people too. “But what does this have to do with my presence here?” Clarke asked. Titus had said that her presence put Lexa in danger; a thought that made her blood run cold. 

Lexa met her gaze again, forest green melding with sky blue. “If the ambassadors think that my actions are not my own, or that your company here has swayed me in any way, they will question my decisions,” she replied. “They will question my ability to lead.”

“But you’ve wanted peace for years, Lexa. Long before my people ever arrived,” Clarke argued, her hand moving to grip the Commander’s. 

“They know that,” Lexa answered, eyes shifting to her hand grasped firmly in Clarke’s and back up again. “That is why the agreement has been reached. But if they feel threatened, they will not hesitate to overturn my decision and depose me.”

“They would vote to remove you from your position?”

“They could, Clarke,” she replied, though her expression remained unnerved. “But unanimous votes do not occur in the council room. Someone would likely challenge me, or hire an…” Lexa let her words trail off.

“An assassin?!” Clarke finished as realization dawned on her and had her shooting up off the couch. “Are they _that_ blood thirsty?”

Lexa reached up and took Clarke’s elbow, gently pulling her down again. “Ruthlessness is how my people have survived for a hundred years, Clarke,” she said, her voice calming. “They know no other way.”

“So they would rather kill you and wipe my people out?” she questioned, feeling a discerning wave of panic.

“War is easy for them, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her words laced with shame. “It is what they are used to. Peace is a foreign concept, and what is foreign is often much harder than what is known.”

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed, grasping the Commander’s hand as if it was the only thing keeping her from floating away in a wave of panic. “If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself,” she admitted, letting fear flood her eyes. She knew that Lexa’s title put her in a constant position of danger, but she had not known that her life hung in the balance with every decision she made. 

Lexa let a small smile play at the edges of her mouth, sending butterflies through Clarke’s stomach in sweeping waves. “Let’s worry about tomorrow when it comes,” she replied, her tone filled with the tenderness that belonged only to Clarke. “Today, for the first time in a hundred years, we have peace.”

Lost in that rare, captivating smile, and with Lexa’s reassuring hand in hers, Clarke let her fear recede to the back of her mind. The world could be ending in a nuclear meltdown around them, and somehow Lexa would know how to calm the situation, the same way she could always calm the storm that raged in Clarke’s heart. 

“How does it feel?” she asked, letting her own smile seep in.

“Like all is as it should be,” Lexa replied. They held each other’s gaze, static popping in the space between them, their faces just inches from each other and the sparks were nearly visible in the air. They sat there, on the edge of moving closer, yet both were frozen still as if waiting for the wave to finally crash. 

Lexa brought her hand to Clarke’s cheek, gently swiping at a black smudge and smearing it across her smooth, pale complexion. “Why do you look as if you failed an attempt at war paint, Clarke?” Lexa asked quizzically, eyebrow arching and spreading a line of coal between her thumb and index finger.

“It’s not war paint,” Clarke grinned. “I’ll show you,” she said, standing and pulling Lexa behind her to the balcony, letting their moment fade.

Her charcoal masterpiece was laid out on the ground, an exact replica of the sprawling view before them. The picture came to life in different shades of gray and black, looking as if the city itself lived within the confines of her drawing. Her lines were exact and her blends of light and dark made the sketch pop against its blank background. She had created something from nothing with little more than her masterful skill, honed with years of practice, and a bit of ingenuity. 

Lexa stared at the drawing, eyes wide in disbelief. “You drew this, Clarke? With a table cloth and a bucket of coal?”

“I was inspired,” Clarke replied, enjoying the awed look on Lexa’s face. She had never seen her like that before; surprised and full of wonder, and it made Clarke’s heart skip in her chest. 

“You are very talented, Clarke,” she said, turning to meet Clarke’s gaze again. “How does it feel to create something so beautiful?” Lexa asked, awe dancing in the green of her eyes as they reflected the early afternoon sun.

“Like my hands are good for more than killing,” Clarke admitted before she could stop herself.

Her words did not faze Lexa, and the Commander simply nodded her understanding. “I will hang it on the wall so that you may be reminded of that, Clarke,” she said, gathering the cloth in her hands before Clarke could agree or protest.

Lexa went to the wall over Clarke’s bed, pulled two small daggers from the bracer around her thigh, and pinned the art by the corners to the empty surface over the bed. When she was finished, they both stepped back, admiring the view in silence. Clarke let her hand slide into Lexa’s again, weaving their fingers together and choking back the sense of pride that had worked its way into her chest.

“You gave life where there was none,” Lexa whispered, her words shattering the composure that Clarke had been struggling to keep. “You created a world where none existed before.”

“Thank you,” Clarke replied, feeling a solemn tear slide down her cheek and turning to face the Commander, sliding a hand up over the guarder at her waist.

Lexa swiped the tear away with her thumb and Clarke could see the volumes of unsaid words lingering in her eyes, longing to be set free. “Go get cleaned up, Clarke,” she said instead. “There is someone I would like you to meet.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lexa guided Clarke through the streets of Polis, though their pace was slow going as the citizens crowded to see their Commander. “Heda!” they called and chanted, reaching for her hand and offering gifts of jewelry, weapons, and decadent food. She took the time to stop for each one, speaking with them in _Trigedasleng_ , or simply just hearing their admiration. She took their gifts and offerings and passed them on to the next, promoting trade and kindness and seeking nothing for profit.

Lexa did not aim to benefit from her position or bask in the glory of praise, but simply acted because it was her duty. Clarke was in awe of her, standing to the side and watching the way the Commander’s face glowed with love and contentment. It gave her that familiar warm tingling that started deep in her chest and trembled deep between her thighs. She ran her tongue along her lips and bit down hard, nearly drawing blood as she tried to force the sensation away; though she felt she only made it worse.

They made their way to the outskirts of Polis, the crowd substantially thinner than in the heart of the city, and it allowed them room to talk in between visitors. “What was that title you called Titus by?” Clarke asked as they meandered, their fingertips dusting against each other as they walked. She wanted to take Lexa’s hand in her own, but she refrained, forcing herself to act naturally in front of the prying eyes of the people of Polis.

“ _Fleimkepa_ ,” Lexa replied. “Titus is Keeper of the Flame. He will oversee the conclave after my death and pass the Spirit of the Commander, the Flame, onto the next worthy novitiate.”

Clarke felt a rush of fear dart through her veins, freezing them over like ice. “So, he’s just some death shadow that hangs around waiting for you to get killed?” Clarke questioned, choking back the lump in her throat.

Lexa giggled and the sound was gentle and melodic, but she forced it away before anyone could see how the Commander let herself laugh alongside the Sky Girl. “He is also my teacher,” Lexa continued. She turned off the road, leading Clarke up a winding set of stairs towards the top of a steep hill. “He will pass the knowledge of the previous Commander on to the next.”

“How many Commanders has he taught before you?” Clarke asked, reaching for Lexa’s hand again as if an automatic reaction and finding that her hand in Lexa’s was what her body tried to do naturally. So, she forced herself to act unnaturally, and again let her hand fall away. She looked down several times and noticed Lexa doing the same thing, as if they were drawn to each other by some invisible subconscious force, and they both had to make a conscious effort to fight it.

The Commander was silent a moment and Clarke knew she was contemplating whether she should answer or not. “Four,” Lexa stated, leaving no further explanation. 

Again Clarke felt panic grip her, doing all that she could to maintain a calm demeanor in a space where she knew eyes were on them. Titus barely doubled Lexa’s age, and he had seen _four_ other Commanders in his time as Flamekeeper. She realized again that Commander of the Coalition was not a job that entailed a long life expectancy. The thought brought bile seeping up from her stomach and crushing pain to her chest. Then again, the other Commanders had lived in times of civil war between clans, and Lexa had brought them together and introduced to them a time of peace. Clarke felt herself desperately hoping that it would mean a better future for Lexa than her predecessors. 

“Do not fear for me, Clarke,” Lexa said, bringing her back from the brink. “This is my duty, and I accept my fate.”

The sound of metal clashing against metal and wood against wood could be heard as they neared the top of the hill and Clarke wondered what awaited them there. “How do you perform your duty knowing that it will likely get you killed?” Clarke questioned.

“We lead because we are strong enough to do so, Clarke,” Lexa answered without hesitation, as if it was a question she had asked herself a thousand times before. “We make the decisions that none other can, and we perform our duty without thought of ourselves. That is what it means to lead.”

“I just don’t know if I would be able to do it,” Clarke admitted.

Lexa stopped abruptly then and turned to face Clarke, green eyes smoldering beneath the afternoon sun and the golden symbol of the Coalition that rested between them. “You forged and alliance with Anya knowing that it could get you killed. You rode to TonDC knowing that a missile would strike. You went in to Mount Weather knowing that you might never come out. You have already done it, Clarke,” Lexa stated. “You and I are more alike than you think.”

It shouldn’t have taken Lexa saying it to make Clarke realize that she was just as powerful of a leader as this woman that she admired so much. Their roles may have been different, Lexa’s ways may have been more harsh and her people more desperate, but they were one in the same. The only difference was that Clarke could run from her duty, while Lexa was forced to face hers head on, even when she didn’t want to. “Lexa, I—

“You are strong, Clarke,” Lexa said, reassurance flooding her voice. “Even if you cannot see it right now.”

They reached the top of the hill where the noises had been echoing and Clarke found herself in the middle of some sort of training ground. It was situated high above the city, the flame at the peak of the Polis tower glowing warmly against the setting sun and the two fires looked as if they were melting into each other. Spread out before them was a little less than a dozen kids ranging in ages, but the oldest looked as if he was a young teen. 

They battled back and forth, blade against blade, spear against spear, each locked in immense concentration. They wore black robes, flowing around them and catching in the wind of their quick movements. Sweat beaded down their foreheads as they exchanged blows with each other and a thick stream of black blood leaked from an open gash above one of the boy’s brows. Titus looked on from across the clearing, taking brief notice of their presence before turning his back in disgust and barking orders to the dozens of different guards that circled the training ground.

“What is this place?” Clarke asked.

Lexa wore an expression of pride as she watched the children battle, like a mother watching over her kids. “These are my novitiates, Clarke,” she said. “One of them will one day succeed me.”

“But they’re just kids,” Clarke observed, watching a young girl take a heavy blow to the back of the head, knocking her to the ground.

“Melia!” Lexa called to her. “ _Ge smak daun…_ ”

“ _Gyon op nodotaim_ , Heda!” the girl called back, hauling herself to her feet and resuming her fight again.

Lexa let her gaze linger on the novitiates, but directed her words to Clarke. “I was just a child when I was called to lead,” she said. “Only a _Natblida_ may be Commander, Clarke, and these are what is left of the Nightbloods,” she explained, referencing the black blood that flowed down the boy’s face and now down the back of Melia’s neck.

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure what the Nightblood meant medically, she had never seen anything like it on the Ark, but she figured that it was some sort of genetic anomaly that evolved out of the radiation saturating the Earth. If only those who carried the black blood could be Commander, that meant that Lexa too was a _Natblida_. 

“How will your successor be chosen?” she asked, feeling nauseous about speaking so candidly of Lexa’s death as if it was imminent. 

“Fate will decide,” Lexa replied. “Upon my death, a conclave will be held. The novitiates will fight to the death, and the winner will become the next Commander.”

The feeling of nausea in Clarke’s stomach grew worse at the thought of the ten children before her slaughtering each other for sport, though she knew that was not the intent of the ritual. The Grounders were firm in their beliefs, and just because she did not understand them, did not give her the right to judge them. What made her sick was the thought that Lexa had battled in her own conclave, and that had she not been victorious, she wouldn’t be beside her today.

“How many novitiates fought in your conclave?” Clarke asked, wondering if their deaths were the first of many on Lexa’s hands.

“There were nine of us originally,” the Commander replied, though her tone had fallen and a tinge of pain snaked its way into her voice. “I know you think our ways are barbaric, Clarke—” Lexa began, but Clarke quickly cut her off.

“Lexa, stop,” she said. “Just because I don’t understand them, does not mean I don’t respect them. Clearly they must work, because you’re standing here,” she mused, letting the compliment slip out before she could stop herself. However unnatural and brutal their traditions seemed, they proved to have yielded a Commander worthy of leading.

Lexa let a small grin turn up the corners of her mouth, but again hid it away and Clarke thought it could have been just a trick of her mind. “Novitiates!” the Commander shouted, clapping her hands twice to call them to attention. “What are the three pillars of the Commander?” she asked them.

“Strength, Wisdom, and Passion,” the children replied in unison as if having rehearsed the mantra a hundred times before. The children eyed Lexa with looks of admiration and reverence, as if they were standing in the presence of a goddess, and each of them could not mask the love that was so clearly written in their awe-struck expressions.

“Very good,” Lexa answered them, letting another small smile tug at her lips. Clarke watched the way she spoke, a teacher instructing her students, and it instantly set her heart beating faster. “You may be dismissed,” she told them. The children bowed to her once and then fanned out, swinging their weapons behind their heads and twirling them across their arms and down their backs. “Aden!” Lexa addressed the eldest boy, and he moved to quickly answer her call.

He was young, his features round and not yet matured, and his dirty-blond hair hung loosely in front of his baby blue eyes. His brow was drenched in sweat, sliding in streams down his sun-kissed face, and his complexion looked as if he spent each day drilling beneath the hot sun. He was taller than both of them, but not lanky, and he moved with grace and confidence. 

“Heda,” he said, bowing once before Lexa.

“Aden, I would like you to meet Clarke of the Sky People,” Lexa said. “Clarke, this is Aden, the most promising of my novitiates and likely to succeed me if I fall.”

The boy bowed once before Clarke. “It is an honor, Clarke of the Sky People,” he spoke, his voice sounding as if he was in transition from boy to man.

“Likewise,” Clarke replied, and she watched the features on Lexa’s face soften as she viewed their exchange with interest. She could tell that Lexa cared deeply for this boy, more so than she had seen with anyone other than herself.

“Aden is my first novitiate. He arrived here only a few weeks after I claimed the mantle of Commander,” she explained. Clarke now understood why she cared for the boy so much; they had grown together, side by side. “Upon my death, Aden will uphold any treaties or agreements that have been made with _Skaikru_.”

Clarke realized why Lexa had brought her all the way out there to meet this boy; she was introducing her to the person that would lead in her stead should anything ever happen to her. Suddenly, anger gripped her, twisting at her insides as fire charged through her blood, though she knew she had no reason to be mad. 

“Can we please talk about something other than your death, Lexa?” Clarke snapped, tone sounding harsher than she had intended. It seemed as if all they had spoken about that day was Lexa’s death, or possible death, or what would happen when she died, or how she may die; it was driving Clarke mad with angst.

The Commander exchanged knowing glances with the boy as if they were passing some unspoken message and her eyes looked almost amused in the late afternoon sun. “You are dismissed, Aden,” Lexa said softly.

“Heda,” he bowed, and then turned to Clarke. “ _Heda Kom Skaikru_ ,” he addressed her respectfully, bowing once more before wandering away.

Clarke thought that Lexa may scold her for addressing her so informally in front of her pupil, but she said nothing of it, never once demanding respect from Clarke and knowing that she owed her none. “Aden is…important to me,” she said instead. “All my novitiates are, but he is the one that means the most. I wanted you to meet him.”

It was then that Clarke realized Lexa had not brought her out there to make preparations and plans for her death, or even to show her parts of her past. She had brought her out there to give a piece of herself to Clarke, and to let her see the parts of her that nobody else had. She had brought her to meet the closest thing to family that she had. Lexa was stoic and mysterious and often impassive, but when she did attempt to show how much she cared, her gestures were grand. She cared about Clarke enough to want to introduce her to the person who mattered most to her, and the thought brought the prickling bite of tears to Clarke’s eyes.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke stood at the full-length mirror in her bathroom running lanky fingers through her damp hair to free it of tangles. She had already dressed, wearing a simple blue and gray frock that wrapped tightly around her slim frame and flowed below her knees in the back while resting mid-thigh in the front. The material itself was almost see-through, blue winding tightly around the layer of grey above her breasts and waist, and she thought that the simple Grounder dress was more elegant than anything she had ever owned on the Ark. 

A ball of nerves knotted in her stomach as she admired her reflection, and she couldn't help the trace of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth in reaction to it. After all she had been through, all she had done in the past few months, she was nervous. It was not the type of nerves she felt with her hand on a lever or on the trigger of a gun, but the kind of nerves that gripped her very core and sent waves of warmth and tingling all the way through to her toes.

As they walked back to the Polis tower, lingering in the streets to speak to passersby and sharing timid glances, Lexa had asked Clarke if she would like to join her in her chambers for dinner. It was meant as a courtesy, but Clarke could hear the hope she kept hidden beneath her voice and see the flash of excitement in her emerald eyes when she had agreed. Now, bathed and clad in a beautiful dress and staring at her appearance in the mirror, she couldn't help but feel like this was some sort of date.

It wasn't a formal occasion, they weren’t even leaving the tower, but it was a celebration nonetheless, even if they were the only two attending. They were celebrating the newly forged peace treaty between the clans and _Skaikru_ , and for the first time in a hundred years, there was no war to fight or battle to plan. For one night, they could live without fear of an impending threat or the overwhelming call of duty. Lexa had wanted to celebrate with Clarke, and Clarke had wanted to look nice, and now she was a puddle of angst and nerves as she twisted her hair into a tight braid down her shoulder. 

She turned away from the mirror and thought about tugging a pair of boots on, but decided against it, and instead let her bare feet take in the chill of the night air as it swept through her balcony door. She felt exposed, vulnerable almost, in her airy gown and bare feet, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sensation. It had been a long time since she'd been able to be just Clarke; not Clarke of The Sky People, or _Heda Kom Skaikru_ , or the Commander of Death, but just plain Clarke. She took a deep steadying breath and let it out slowly, feeling more like an eighteen-year-old girl now than she had in the entire year that had passed since her father died.

She wandered the few steps across the hall to Lexa's door and lingered outside of it, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear before bringing her fist up and rapping lightly against the wood. "Lexa?" she called. "It's me."

There was a loud shuffling in the room followed by a loud string of _Trigedasleng_ and a few moments later, Lexa's voice drifted out to the hallway. "Come in, Clarke."

Clarke let her hand close around the doorknob and gently pushed it open, timidly stepping through the entrance. Lexa’s room was washed in flickering candlelight, hundreds upon hundreds of them sparked and danced, sprawled across the floor, sitting on stands, melting onto the surface of furniture. It was as if during the night, she tried to keep the sun with her, chasing the dark away and leaving the room feeling warm and safe. She idly wondered how long it took Lexa’s servants to light them all and where she even managed to get that many candles.

A fire popped from a fireplace, further lending more orange and yellow light to the room and radiating soft heat. Lexa’s bed sat against the wall to the right of a balcony door, doused in magnificent white furs that looked as if they might be softer than a cloud and Clarke instantly felt the urge to reach out and sweep her hand across them. The bed frame was hand-carved from what appeared to be oak, spiraling in intricate designs down to the floor, the opulent cherry finish was clearly the product of expert craftsmanship. It amazed her that a culture with so little knowledge of technology and primitive means of tools could manage to build and design such elaborate and detailed pieces.

The room itself was not lavish and ornately decorated, and there were hardly any personal items strewn about with the exception of a few weapons in their sheaths, resting in a rack by the door. She honestly hadn’t been expecting anything different. This was Lexa’s room, and it was so like Lexa to leave it empty and devoid of emotion; she was always the Commander, always powerful and stoic, even in the privacy of her own bedchambers. It seemed the only time she ever let her guard down, ever let herself feel free, was when she was alone with Clarke.

Clarke glanced around at the bare walls, looking for any personal touches or signs that Lexa may have attempted to make the room her own, but found them blank. She wondered if the Commander’s idea of decorating was lighting enough candles to burn the entire tower to the ground, but felt herself gasp sharply when her eyes fell to an old piano in the corner of the room. 

It looked ancient, clearly a relic from before the nuclear war that had nearly ended mankind, but it was stunning nonetheless. It appeared as if it had been black at one point, but the paint had chipped and faded to a deep grey, and the lid sat open, exposing taught piano wire waiting to be strummed. From where she stood, she couldn’t see if all the keys were still intact, and she wondered if the piano had always been there, or if Lexa had brought it up when she ascended to her position. The thought of Lexa’s long fingers sliding nimbly over the keys and creating any sort of melody sent shivers through her entire body and she felt them flush in her cheeks.

“Clarke,” Lexa said, breaking the silence.

Lexa stood at the center of the room beside a lavish dining table adorned with a small feast consisting of different smoked meats, cheeses, breads, fresh fruit and what looked like a few different casks of wine. Her attire was simple but elegant, a long sleeved black shirt, tucked in the front and hanging loosely in the back. She wore skintight charcoal colored pants that were torn in various places, revealing bits of soft white skin, and tucking into her calf-length boots just below her knees. Her hair flowed over her right shoulder, damp from a recent bath, and curling gently at the tips. Her hands were folded behind her back and she stood stoically, though her features softened as Clarke shuffled further into the room.

She watched as Lexa drank in the sight of her, her bright green eyes raking themselves over Clarke’s body from top to bottom twice before stopping to meet her gaze. “Clarke,” she breathed again, as if spurring herself from a trance. She pulled out a chair and motioned for Clarke to sit. “Thank you for joining me. You look…”

“So do you.” Clarke felt herself smiling before she could stop it as she sat down at the table beside Lexa. “I wanted to apologize,” she began, feeling the need to clear the air.

The Commander leaned over her to pour her a glass of wine and cocked an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What have you done to warrant this apology, Clarke?” she asked.

“For the way I acted in front of Aden earlier,” she answered, taking the wine and gulping it down gratefully, suddenly aware of the fire that burned in her throat. “I thought that you…I just thought…I just didn’t realize how important he is to you,” she stammered, struggling to find the words. The simple act of allowing her to meet the one person that mattered to most to Lexa had meant more than she could begin to express.

“You thought I was introducing you to him so that you know who to talk to in case something were to ever happen to me,” Lexa mused, knowing exactly where Clarke’s thoughts had wandered. She always seemed to know exactly where Clarke’s thoughts strayed to.

“Yes,” Clarke replied, taking a bite of meat that Lexa had provided for her on her plate. She enjoyed the way that the Commander catered to her without thought, always filling Clarke’s plate or her wine glass before moving to fill her own.

Lexa shrugged a single shoulder, taking a bite of her own. “I was,” she quipped. “You need to be prepared, Clarke. But also, I just wanted you to meet him. Aden is special.”

She didn’t need to hear Lexa say the words ‘to me’ at the end of that sentence, she knew they were inferred. She also didn’t need to get into another conversation about Lexa’s death. There had been enough talk of that for one day. “I’m glad that you trust me enough to introduce me to him,” she said. “And I wanted to—

“You do not ever have to apologize to me, Clarke,” Lexa said, cutting her off. “Your actions are your own, and I respect them.”

Their eyes met, skies of blue flickering against forest green in the candlelight and Clarke found herself wishing that her people could understand her as well as Lexa did. Since she’d been on the ground, all she had done was fight to keep her people alive, and yet she always seemed to be apologizing for the actions she had to take to do so. But not with Lexa. She never had to explain herself with Lexa, or feel remorse for the things she’d done. In fact, it had been the Commander who first apologized to Clarke, and she was just now understanding the weight of that. For Lexa to apologize for her actions meant that she truly and deeply held regret for them.

She cleared her throat and let her eyes fall to the piano in the corner of the room, searching for anything to keep her from getting lost in those endless pools of green. “Do you play?” Clarke asked, motioning her head towards the piano.

Lexa’s jaw clenched as she stared at the instrument, knuckles going white around her wooden mug, and she was silent for what seemed like a full minute before answering. “Not in a long time…” she replied, letting her voice fall away. Her tone was strained as if just the sight of the piano caused her physical agony.

There was so much pain masked behind that simple moment, the way Lexa cringed and retreated into herself, that Clarke could feel her heart breaking in her chest. Lexa’s shoulders slumped and a deep sigh escaped her pouty lips, wrenching a knot in Clarke’s gut that threatened to kill her appetite. She wanted to ask what was going on behind that impassive exterior, but she didn’t want to feel as if she was prying or trying to force Lexa into a discussion that she wasn’t willing to have.

Lexa took a swig of the alcohol from the mug in front of her as if trying to wash some sour test from her mouth. She sucked in a breath and met Clarke's patient gaze again. "Costia...it was her thing. And then it was our thing."

Clarke understood. She understood perhaps better than anyone. Her love of art had always stemmed from her father, he’d given her her first set of colored pencils when she was five, and from then on he’d supported her need to create. He was always hanging her artwork on the walls and carrying it with him to show off to Jaha and the other council members. It had made her feel proud and just further inspired her to stick with it until she had mastered her trade. 

“I didn’t draw or paint for a long time after my father died,” Clarke replied, seeing the pain in Lexa’s face. Her expression hid it well, but it was there, tugging slightly at her brow as if itching to be set free.

The Commander nodded once, the dim light flickering off her high cheekbones and casting shadows down her face that made it appear as if she was wearing her signature war paint. “I keep it as a reminder,” she said, her tone hushed as if not to wake the dead memories that lay dormant in the room.

“A reminder of what?”

“Many things, Clarke,” Lexa answered, setting her mug aside. She had finished the drink, but Clarke knew that she would not have another. The Commander would never dull her senses in such a way; instead she simply sat back in her chair and let her eyes meet Clarke’s again. 

_Love is weakness_ … The words rang in the back of Clarke’s mind, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting to see if she would hear them again. She knew that Lexa held herself responsible for Costia’s death, though she did not agree that love was weakness. Clarke believed that there was strength in love, she had seen it, and despite Lexa’s beliefs, she had been the one to show it to her. Lexa’s love for her people was so strong that she would sacrifice anything for them, even her own free will and her own happiness, and her love for them is what had given her the strength to do so. Clarke hoped that she could show her that some day.

But, tonight was not the night, and she could see Lexa’s gaze shifting uncomfortably between her and the piano, struggling to keep her composure. Clarke reached for her empty glass and poured the Commander another drink before refilling her own. “Come on, Commander,” she teased, breaking the tension in the air. “When is the last time you let yourself live a little?”

“Getting drunk is not befitting of the Commander, Clarke,” she replied through a sly smile and reached for the mug despite her words.

“We’re supposed to be celebrating,” Clarke quipped, tipping her own cask to her lips. “So let’s celebrate.”

Lexa surprised her when she downed the contents of her glass in one gulp. “The last time I had more than one drink was when I was sixteen,” she reminisced. “With Anya.” She relaxed back in her chair and let a small smile flit across her elegant features at the memory.

“This sounds like a story,” Clarke probed, giving her a playful nudge with her elbow to urge her on.

Lexa sighed fondly in response. “It was a few weeks before my conclave. Anya was in Polis to trade and meet with some of the _Trikru_ leaders, and she had the idea to sneak me out of the tower one night,” she began. “She dragged me down to the local tavern and practically forced an entire pitcher of ale down my throat and of course would not give me any say otherwise.”

“Sounds like Anya,” Clarke laughed.

“There was this girl there that Anya was interested in,” Lexa continued on, eyes glowing at the memory. “She was sitting by herself and the two of them had been exchanging glances all night. Anya was about to approach her when a _Floukru_ warrior made his advance instead. He was drunk and inconsiderate, and clearly couldn’t read the situation because that girl was in no way interested. Of course, Anya…”

“Oh God…”

“Anya looks at me and in an entirely serious voice says _‘We do what we must for our people, Lexa,’_ ” Lexa said, putting on a voice that was uncanny to her former mentor’s. “She went over to the warrior and not so politely told him to leave. Needless to say, a fight ensued, and somehow we ended up in the midst of a bar brawl.”

Clarke smiled, picturing a drunken teenage Lexa and a feisty Anya in the midst of a heard of warriors, battling for the honor of some tavern girl. “What happened next?”

Lexa laughed, hard, rolling laughter, and Clarke thought that she had never heard anything so beautiful in her life. She wondered if anyone else had ever seen Lexa like this: uninhibited and bubbling with laughter, and so completely free. It was like witnessing a miracle, and she could feel her heart pick up and jump in her chest as if trying to float away.

“Anya put him on the ground. Then she dumped a cask of ale on his head and yelled _‘Yu gonplei ste odon!’_ ” Lexa finished, letting laughter erupt through her soft grin again. “But…” she breathed, giggling. “That’s not even the worst of it!”

Clarke let herself sit back, absorbing Lexa in all her pure, innocent, and incredibly rare happiness. She watched the way her smile glowed all the way up in the green of her eyes and how little dimples formed just below her high cheekbones. The sight made her heart ache and beat faster at the same time, and she wished that Lexa could be free like this all of the time, though she knew that it could never be.

“The next day, we met in the throne room to discuss the conclave with the ambassadors of the clans, and sure enough, there was the man from the tavern. He was the _Floukru_ ambassador. Of course he recognized me, and Titus was livid,” Lexa finished her story, letting her giggles come to a stop. “I didn’t eat for week.”

“Was it worth it?” Clarke asked, and she found herself reaching for Lexa’s hand.

All playfulness was gone from her voice when she replied, “It is one of my fondest memories of Anya. I would do it ten times over again if given the chance.” Her eyes were sad when they shifted down to Clarke’s hand in hers, resting atop the table.

“Anya would be proud of you, Lexa,” Clarke said before she had a chance to even think about it. “She was proud of you.”

“I know,” Lexa answered, giving Clarke’s hand a gentle squeeze before pushing back from the table to stand. “It is getting late, Clarke,” she said. 

The candles had all but burned out and melted to the furniture around them, the fire that had burned in the hearth was now a smoldering pile of ash, and Clarke hadn’t realized just how long they had been lost in conversation. It was evident that hours had gone by and the moonlight filtered in through the balcony in thick silver streams. Lexa looked at her as if unsure what to do next, a clear question hanging unsaid in the space between them.

Clarke shuffled her seat back and stood, clearing her throat and letting her gaze flit away from the Commander, watching the shadows dance on the wall with the gentle breeze wafting in from the balcony door. “I should go,” she felt herself saying, though her entire body was protesting against it as she took a step towards the door.

Lexa nodded once, hiding her thoughts behind an impassive expression, though Clarke thought she saw a slight fall in her shoulders. Clarke moved towards the hallway and expected Lexa to follow, but was surprised when the Commander stayed rooted in place beside the table. When she glanced back, she could see the longing, bordering desperation, in the emerald green of Lexa’s eyes.

The door handle was cold beneath Clarke’s palm and the sensation had her freezing in place. “Lexa?” she asked, unable to contain the words that were racing in her mind.

“Yes, Clarke?” she replied, a bit too quickly and there was a hint of hope hidden within her tone.

“Would it be okay if I stayed?”

The question lingered in the air, and Clarke thought that she could hear Lexa breathe a slight sigh of relief. “Of course, Clarke,” she whispered, stepping closer.

She hadn’t realized it, but Clarke had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly and silently as she let her hand fall away from the door and turned to face the Commander. Lexa had moved swiftly and without noise, and was standing only inches away, her gaze dragging up and down Clarke’s body and lingering on her lips. There was a tangible tension in the space between them, hanging thick and smoldering in the dim candlelight, waiting to spark and catch fire.

Clarke felt herself reaching for Lexa’s hand as if it was an inherent reaction, taking it in her own and letting their fingers weave together. A knot twisted in her stomach when Lexa’s thumb started tracing little patterns in her palm and up the length of her wrist. Their eyes remained fixed, cobalt blue clashing with vivid green, as the world fell silent around them.

Lexa reached up with her free hand and softly tucked a strand of Clarke’s hair behind her ear, the movement causing her to move closer still. “Come, Clarke,” she whispered, disturbing the quiet, her words trembling in the tiny space between their lips. “We should rest.”

Clarke nodded slowly, keeping her hand in Lexa’s as she led her over to the bed and pulled the plush furs back. Lexa gave her fingers an assuring squeeze before turning away to shuffle about the room and extinguish the candles around them. Clarke took the moment of respite from the heat that burned between them to shift her dress off her shoulders, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments before she climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets up around her.

The light faded away as Lexa shuffled around the room, though she lingered on the last candle once again. “Clarke?” she called, her voice soft and timid.

“It’s fine,” Clarke replied, again feeling warmth flood her body that she was quickly starting to associate with being near the Commander. 

She never knew that anyone could be so contradictory; Lexa was dangerous and ruthless and commanding, but she was also soft and passionate and so selfless. She could kill a man without thought and without hesitation, yet hesitated to extinguish all the candles in the dead of night, afraid of what the dark may bring. She was a puzzle, a mystery, a baffling living conundrum, and she drove Clarke’s senses insane with want and need and the irresistible urge to figure her out.

Lexa left the last candle lit, then disappeared into the bathroom and returned a moment later, wearing an overly large long-sleeved shirt and boy-short underwear, looking entirely comfortable and relaxed. Her high cheek bones were flushed red with drink and her wild brown hair fell in waves over her shoulder as she climbed into bed beside Clarke. She smelled of lavender soap and a bit of alcohol, and Clarke couldn’t help but shift closer, needing desperately to feel her warmth.

She propped herself up on her elbow, leaning over Lexa so that their noses were inches apart as she let her fingers trail up the Commander’s arm. It was just a whisper of a touch, but she felt Lexa stiffen beneath it. “I wish you could be like this all of the time,” Clarke whispered, her voice raspy.

Lexa’s eyes met hers in the dark and she could see her arching her brow in question. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Happy and uninhibited,” she replied. “Free.”

Lexa was quiet for a long time after that, though she did not shift away, allowing Clarke to relax into her side. Clarke thought she had fallen asleep when she finally responded. “We must accept the things we cannot change, Clarke,” she whispered into the night, her words lingering in the flickering light of a single candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so clearly another emotional chapter. Titus made his appearance, and I've got some big plans for him going forward. Also, we got to see Aden and even a bit of Anya, and I hope to work their characters into the story more going forward because they are such a joy to write, and Lexa is so fun to write when she is around them. I added the piano in Lexa's room because I wanted it to have some sort of connection to her past rather than the mostly empty and emotionless setting that we saw in the show, and it'll serve a purpose in the future. Clarke is slowly becoming more in touch and in tune with her emotions, though she is far from healed, but she is on a journey that has really only just begun in regards to character development and I cannot wait for you guys to see that. Stick with me over the next few sections because we're going to start to see some major plot points reveal themselves. See you next Friday!
> 
> \- Alex


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, guys! Okay, so this chapter was actually so fun to write and we get to see a lot of different emotions playing out with Clarke and especially Lexa. I know a lot of this work so far has been about Clarke's struggles and the way that Lexa is helping her to overcome them, but Lexa definitely has a few demons of her own, and we get to see some here. We also get a lot more of Aden, and I really love the effect that he has on both Lexa and Clarke. I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you so much for the comments and kudos I've been receiving on this as they mean the world to me.
> 
> \- Alex

For the first time in days, Clarke slept soundly. She didn’t close her eyes and see the depictions of blood and death or the burnt and lifeless faces she had grown so accustomed to. She didn’t feel the ghosts that haunted her memories and lived within her subconscious reaching out to pull her into darkness or struggling to free themselves to wreak havoc within her nightmares. Instead, she drifted peacefully, vaguely aware of the warm body nestled beside her and the soft arms wrapped protectively around her waist.

The muffled sounds of panic and pain tugged at the edges of Clarke's mind and for a moment she feared that the dreams had finally found her, but when she startled awake, it was Lexa who was crying out in her sleep. The Commander's normally impassive features were twisted into a fearful grimace, her brow knitted together as if she was squeezing her eyes shut. A single tear slid down her flushed cheek and mixed with the glistening sweat that clung to her pale skin in the flickering candlelight. Her wild brown hair clung to her forehead, matted down with sweat, and was splayed out on the pillow behind her like a halo as her jaw clenched and tightened beneath her sculpted cheek bones.

She tried to untangle herself from Lexa's grasp, but the motion only made her cling tighter as she whined in protest, gripping Clarke as if the lives of all her people depended on it. Clarke wondered if the pain that ached in her heart and the sting of tears in her eyes was what Lexa felt every night when she gently roused her from her own terrors. She imagined that whatever Lexa was dreaming, with all the monstrosities she had seen and all the things she'd done, it was far worse than anything Clarke's own subconscious could ever come up with.

"Lexa," Clarke whispered, trying to keep the sob from her voice. She propped herself up on her elbow and managed to pull far enough out of the Commander's grasp so that she could lean over her in the dim light. "Lexa, you're dreaming," she tried again, this time letting her hand settle on the other girl's hip to gently try to rouse her.

The Commander began to tremble beneath her grip and Clarke could not hold back the tears that escaped her eyes, betraying her at the sight of the strongest women she had ever met cowering in the clutches of a nightmare. "Lexa, hey it's ok—

Before Clarke could finish her attempt to calm, she was being flipped forcefully onto her back in one swift motion. Lexa straddled her, pinning her down with the weight of her body and a sharp, boney elbow in her chest. Her emerald eyes were wild and tinged red, glassy and blurred, and from somewhere in the folds of the bed she had procured a knife, pressing the dangerously sharp end of the blade to the soft flesh of Clarke's throat. She was gasping for air, her teeth gritted against a tight jaw in the darkness and Clarke could tell that she was caught somewhere between dream and reality.

"Hey," Clarke whispered, careful not to move a muscle, but still surprisingly calm given her current position beneath the wrong end of a knife. "Lex, it's me. It's Clarke," she said, her tone soft and soothing.

She waited for a moment, watching as realization settled over Lexa's features. "Clarke?" she asked, her voice cracking with surprise as if she couldn't believe the person in front of her was real.

"It's me," she replied, letting her hands slide up the length of the Commander's thighs to rest gently on her hips. "I'm right here."

She felt the tension instantly leave Lexa's body as her storming green eyes went wide with shock, brimming with tears that did not fall. The knife lifted away from her throat and ended up somewhere across the room with a loud _clang_ , and then the trembling in the Commander's body started up again. Lexa was shaking so hard now that she could have been suffering from hypothermia if they weren’t in the warmth of her bed. She was still breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed and her soft features twisting into an expression of fear and sorrow. Clarke had never seen Lexa look so vulnerable before, so completely exposed and raw, and she appeared as if her entire world had come undone.

Emerald eyes met Clarke's across the narrow space between them and she could see the shame and discomfort flashing through them and threatening to spill over. "I'm so sorry, Clarke," Lexa whispered but the apology sounded more like a prayer than anything, begging forgiveness.

"Hey," Clarke cooed as she continued to rub soothing circles over Lexa's hips with her thumbs. "It's okay. You're okay." The reaction felt almost natural. She knew that any other person would be terrified after having a knife pressed to their throat, but she understood Lexa's pain. She understood, perhaps better than anyone, the terrors that lurked in the night and took hold relentlessly and without warning. She had already forgiven her.

Alarm flashed across Lexa's features and her hands urgently found their way to Clarke's face, framing it beneath their delicate touch. "Are you well, Clarke?" she asked, voice laced with worry as she peeled her gaze away to check for any signs of damage on Clarke's body. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, of course not," Clarke replied quickly, catching the Commander's wrists in her palms. "I'm fine, Lex. Just breathe."

Lexa stared at her blinking slowly before letting out a shaky breath that she had not even been aware she was holding. She glanced down, realizing that she still sat atop Clarke's relaxed body, a leg positioned on either side of her. She cleared her throat and let herself roll off, though Clarke was reaching out and grabbing hold of her arm before she could go too far, again attempting to soothe her with her gentle touch.

She hovered at the edge of the bed, legs thrown over the side, allowing Clarke to keep her there. Lexa's back was to her, her shoulders were tense and spine rigid, and Clarke could see the dark edges of a tattoo poking out from beneath her shirt, black against her sun-kissed skin. They sat in silence for a while letting the single dancing flame of their candle chase away the remnants of the nightmare.

It took a few minutes, but Clarke felt Lexa slowly begin to relax beneath the gentle caress of her palm. "Are you okay?" she asked when the silence of the night grew too heavy around them.

"I would never harm you, Clarke," Lexa fumbled out as if she could no longer contain the words, her body was still, but her voice was trembling. "I've lived like this for so long...I'm not used to....I just..." she attempted multiple times before letting her words fall away.

Clarke sat up, sliding her hand up to Lexa's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Lexa," she whispered. "It's okay. I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere." The moment she said the words, she knew they were true and she was surprised at how sure she was of them.

Lexa stiffened beneath her touch, but only for a second before Clarke felt the warm press of her hand close around her own where it rested on her shoulder. "They always seem so real," the Commander admitted and Clarke knew that she was referring to the nightmares that plagued the both of them. She knew just how real they were in sleep and in reality.

"I know," Clarke answered. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lexa sighed, standing up. "I am sorry I woke you, Clarke," she said, brushing off her question. "I'm going to get some air. Sleep will not find me again this night."

Clarke was up and out of the bed, pulling on pants and shrugging into a jacket before Lexa could protest. "I'll come with you," she said, not offering the Commander a choice.

Lexa eyed her wearily but Clarke could see the relief on her face and suspected that this may have been what she wanted all along. She didn’t protest, but instead moved to the other side of the room, disappearing into the bathroom and returning a moment later clad in pants and an overcoat of her own. She handed Clarke a pair of boots, aware of the fact that she had been barefoot when she’d joined the Commander in her room for dinner.

When they were dressed, Clarke moved to the door, pulling it open and waiting patiently for Lexa with an outstretched hand. Lexa froze, her eyes shifting from Clarke’s soft expression down to her hand and back up again as a puzzled look flitted across her face. Clarke could see the gears turning and knew that the Commander was wondering why she wasn’t afraid of her. How she could want to take her hand when only moments ago she had pressed a blade to her throat?

“Come on,” Clarke said, urging her softly.

Lexa nodded once and let her hand slide into Clarke’s, weaving their fingers together before leading her out into the hallway. Lexa’s hand was still trembling in hers and Clarke squeezed it once trying to reassure her and ease her nerves with the warmth of her grasp. She stepped towards the elevator, figuring that they would be leaving the tower, but the Commander stayed rooted in place and pulled her gently in the opposite direction.

“This way, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. 

She led her to the very end of the hallway and around a bend where a single door stood shut, looking as if it hadn’t been used since before the world ended. Lexa produced a worn key from inside of her coat pocket and slipped it into the lock, turning it until it clicked. She pushed it open and Clarke found herself in front of a spiraling set of stairs leading nowhere but up. 

Lexa didn’t say a word when she started ascending the stairs, pulling Clarke behind her and leading her up the winding passage way. There was another door at the top and Lexa used the same key to unlock it, shoving it open and letting the cool night air sweep over them.

Clarke found herself at the top of the Polis tower overlooking the entire city, sprawling out in all directions around them, the buildings reaching out far into the distance as if trying to consume the forest. Beyond the tree line to the East, she swore she could see the dark expanse of the ocean and she felt herself sniffing the air, trying to smell for sea and salt. To the West, her eyes found Mount Weather, and she let them linger there for a moment, waiting to see if the pang of guilt in her heart would come. It did, but it didn’t feel nearly as strong as it used to, not with Lexa’s hand in hers and the entire world at their feet.

The night had gone on longer than Clarke realized, and the sky above was turning a hazy shade of purple with the rising sun and she knew that dawn would soon be upon them. The air shifted, carrying with it a blast of heat, and Clarke glanced up at the giant basin of flame that remained constantly burning atop the Polis tower, serving as a beacon of hope and unity for all those who could see it. It warmed her bones and the deepest parts of her soul, and she felt a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth.

She could feel Lexa’s eyes on her and she turned to meet her gaze, feeling her heart flip at the look of adoration and reverence in the Commander’s eyes. She looked at Clarke as if she held all the stars in the sky. “It’s beautiful,” Clarke whispered, feeling her cheeks flush.

“Yes,” Lexa replied, though her stare never wandered. “I come out here to think when I cannot sleep,” she explained.

Clarke let her smile grow, realizing that this was another place that was sacred to Lexa and she had chosen to share it with her. “I can see why,” she stated, holding her free hand up to feel the blaring heat of the fire before them.

“You have not seen it yet, Clarke,” Lexa mused, giving her a knowing glance and her hand a gentle squeeze before leading her over to a guardrail at the edge of the roof.

Below them, the city slept, yet to stir from the clutches of the night. It was peaceful, and Clarke watched the lanterns that illuminated the city streets flicker and dance along the lines that wove them through the roads like a maze. She felt a sense of tranquility sweep through her, and even Mount Weather looming in the distance could not chase the warm feeling away. When they were this far above the world, nothing could reach them, and she knew that this was a place of healing: this was _Lexa’s_ place of healing.

“I was dreaming about the Conclave,” Lexa stated, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Clarke peeled her gaze away from the view to let her eyes settle on the Commander. She shifted back and forth slightly, and Clarke could see the subtle tick of her jaw that she had come to associate with when Lexa was nervous. “Want to tell me about it?”

“The dream or my Conclave?” Lexa asked.

“Both.”

Lexa swallowed thickly and turned her eyes towards the view again, and Clarke wondered what horrible thing she was about to tell her that had her averting her gaze and trembling steadily. Again, Clarke squeezed her hand reassuringly and pulled her closer so that their arms were pressed together. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to,” she whispered into her ear. She would never force Lexa to speak about anything that she was not comfortable with.

Lexa seemed to relax at that, the trembling that had been wracking her body coming to a slow halt as she sucked in a deep steadying breath. “I had just turned sixteen when the Commander before me was killed in battle,” she began. “Only six clans had been united under her coalition, and civil war raged between the coalition and the alliance that _Azgeda_ had formed. _Trikru_ was fighting a battle on two fronts between Ice Nation and the armies that followed them and the Mountain Men that attacked us in the night. I knew that the only hope to save my people from the Mountain would be to unite the twelve clans and use the force of all of our armies together to bring them down.”

Clarke stiffened at the mention of bringing down Mount Weather, and Lexa seemed to notice because she idly ran her thumb in circles over the back of Clarke’s palm. “I’m fine,” Clarke whispered, urging her on.

Lexa nodded once and then continued. “I knew that I had to win the Conclave. For the sake of my people, and if there was any hope of ever finding peace, I had to win.”

“You said there were nine novitiates in your Conclave?”

“There were nine of us originally, but only eight fought,” she answered. “One of the novitiates fled after the first round. The others…” Lexa took another deep breath trying to calm her nerves. “I am the only one that survived. I killed my opponents without hesitation, Clarke. I slaughtered children half my age and cut them down until I alone stood victorious.”

Clarke felt a shutter rock through her and she struggled to contain it as the image of a teenage Lexa cutting down children flitted through the back of her mind. She had never seen Lexa fight, but she saw the lethal accuracy of which she hurdled her knives and the confident way she drew her blade; she knew that the Commander was a skilled and deadly warrior.

“You had no other choice, Lexa,” she said, again feeling the way the words applied to her as well. Everything she had done since she’d come to the ground, every decision she had made and every life she had taken, had been because she had no other choice.

“I know,” Lexa replied. “But I still can’t get the image of the way their black blood pooled on the ground like oil out of my head. I still can’t erase their eyes pleading with me before I killed them. I have seen many deaths, Clarke, but those are the ones that haunt me the most,” she admitted. “And then I dream and…”

Her words hung in the air, stagnant as if waiting for a strong wind to carry them away, and Clarke struggled to imagine the horror she’d seen. This girl, this woman who had killed her own father to protect a warrior and executed her own friend for a crime he attempted to pin on Clarke, she had seen more death than any person should ever know. Yet, these were the deaths that plagued her mind and clung like parasites to her dreams.

“Lexa—

“I worry for Aden,” the Commander spoke before Clarke could attempt to soothe her. “I know it’s wrong. I know that they are all my novitiates and I should care for all of them equally, but I worry for Aden most.”

Clarke let her eyes drift over the landscape before them. The sun was rising steadily and the sky above had changed to a light blue tinged with a milky orange towards the East and she knew they had only moments before it would peek up over the horizon. The crisp morning air was sharp in her lungs but she was not cold, the fire from the basin behind them radiated heat across her back and with Lexa pressed to her side, she felt as if she was wrapped in the warmth of a blanket.

“It’s not wrong. You care about him, Lexa. It’s okay to worry about the people you care for,” she answered. “You want him to be safe.”

Lexa shook her head once and turned her gaze back on Clarke. “I do not worry for his safety, Clarke,” she replied. “Aden is a skilled warrior. Better than even I was at his age. I worry because I do not want him to carry the same guilt and the same pain that I do. He deserves better than that.”

“So do you,” Clarke said without thought. “I know you carry these things so that your people don’t have to, but you don’t have to carry them alone, Lexa.”

Clarke watched as the Commander’s jaw clenched and relaxed as if she was chewing on the words she wished she could say. Her emerald green eyes were glowing brighter in the dawning light than she had ever seen before, but there were shadows beneath them from the lack of sleep in the past few days. Lexa’s brown hair was swept over her left shoulder and fell in waves down to her mid chest and she wore a tender expression that was made specifically for Clarke.

Lexa’s hand wiggled from Clarke’s grasp and slid up to wrap around her shoulders just as the sun made its debut above the tree line. It drifted up from where the horizon dipped and set the world ablaze with its gentle orange light and soft heat. The way the morning glow fell over the forest and on to the city below made Clarke’s heart skip and she hadn’t even realized that she was holding her breath when Lexa spoke.

“I’ve always preferred sunrise over sunset,” she whispered. “It brings with it the promise of a beginning and the start of something new rather than the end to something past. There is hope in the dawning of a new day, Clarke.”

Clarke pried her gaze from the magnificent view and turned to Lexa, letting her hands slide up over her waist. Their eyes met in the familiar dance of earth and sky and in that moment, with the most beautiful view in the world before her, Clarke could only bring herself to look at one thing. The dawning sun isn’t what made her heart flutter and her stomach twist; it was Lexa. 

It was Lexa in all her beautiful, tragic, mysterious, contradictory and confusing glory. It was the way Lexa could be so hard and so soft at the same time, and the way that she could command a nation and yet care for each person individually. It was the way she spoke, so authoritative and strong, yet she could be tender and gentle when they were alone. It was the way she carried herself, the Leader of the Coalition and the Commander of the Twelve Clans, but she was also just a girl, just Lexa. She was everything all at once, a whirlwind of contradictories, yet a perfect masterpiece of grace and eminence.

Clarke stared at this girl before her and knew that she was staring into the eyes of her future. She watched Lexa’s gaze shift down to her lips and back up again, and the distance between them seemed to grow smaller by the second. Lexa’s hands came up to frame Clarke’s cheeks, running her thumbs gently across her jawline as she stepped closer. Clarke’s grip on Lexa’s waist tightened as their chests pressed together, their lips just inches apart.

She was holding her breath again, waiting for desire to win out, praying that Lexa would close the distance. She felt her eyes drift shut and tried to remember the way that Lexa’s lips tasted on hers, wanting nothing more than to taste them again. She felt Lexa tense in her arms and knew that she was moving to seal the space between them, and she tilted her head up to accept Lexa’s lips.

“Heda?” A voice called and Clarke felt a blast of cold air as Lexa jumped quickly out of her grasp. She didn’t pull entirely away, allowing her hands to close around the tops of Clarke’s arms, but their moment had been shattered and Clarke felt a wave of disappointment flood through her body.

“Heda?” the voice called again. It was young and hopeful and it took Clarke a moment to realize who had interrupted them.

“I am here, Aden,” Lexa replied, though her eyes remained locked on Clarke’s and she didn’t move to shift any further out of her grasp.

Aden emerged from the doorway at the top of the spiral staircase. He was already dressed for the day, clad in black boots, tight fitting pants and a loose gray short-sleeved shirt. Despite his attire, his dirty blonde hair was still tousled from sleep and his blue eyes were swimming behind a gentle yawn. He took a step towards them and froze when he registered Clarke glaring at him from her spot in Lexa’s arms.

“Commander, forgive me,” he said quickly. “I thought you would be alone up here.”

Clarke wanted to be irritated at the intrusion, but the moment she saw the way Lexa’s face softened when Aden spoke had her heart melting all over again. Lexa cared about this boy more than she would ever admit, and Clarke could see it in her eyes. 

“All is well, Aden,” Lexa replied, casting Clarke an apologetic glance before letting her hands fall away and putting another measure of space between them. “What is it that you need?” she asked, turning to her novitiate.

Aden’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two women and Clarke thought that she could see a slight blush tinge his cheeks before he spoke again. “ _Fleimkeppa_ seeks an audience with you,” he began. “Riders arrived in the night. It is an urgent matter that requires council.”

Lexa sighed, their moment of tranquility shattered. There would always be more business to attend to and another battle to fight. Even in a time of peace, her duty had no end. “Very well,” she replied, exasperated. She turned to Clarke again and for a moment it looked as if she might tell Aden to leave, but instead she let her shoulders fall, heavy with the duty that never ceased. “Will you be okay while I’m in council, Clarke?” she asked.

“Go, I’ll be fine,” Clarke answered, careful not to let disappointment seep into her voice.

Lexa gave her a half-hearted smile and she could see the longing lingering in the green of her eyes before she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Clarke’s cheek that sent a wave of sparks across her skin. Without another word, she turned away and strode through the door, disappearing down the spiral staircase to begin her responsibilities for the day. Clarke stared after her, expecting Aden to follow and leave her alone on the roof, but instead the boy strode over to where she stood, taking the spot that Lexa had occupied only moments ago.

He looked out over the landscape, watching the last of the sun rise above the horizon. “You worry for her,” he said, and it was a statement, not a question.

“She worries for you,” Clarke replied with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

Aden gave a single nod, his features impassive, reminding her so much of Lexa. “Heda worries for all of her people,” he said.

Clarke smiled, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on her face. “She does. But she cares about you, Aden.”

“Yes,” he answered as if the fact was already known to him. “Heda practically raised me.”

“She mentioned that you arrived here shortly after she became Commander.”

He nodded once again, folding his hands behind his back. His mannerisms were so similar to Lexa’s it was if staring at a mirror image of her. “I was seven years old when the scouts found me and brought me to Polis. I’ve known the Commander nearly half my life,” he explained.

Clarke tried to imagine being taken from her parents at such a young age and thrown into a life of violence and immeasurable responsibility that could be ended at any moment. She couldn’t begin to understand what this boy, this child, had to deal with in his short lifetime. She also knew that Lexa had dealt with even more in her young lifetime and the thought was heart wrenching. 

“She’s an amazing person,” Clarke mused, not realizing she had said the words allowed, but it was too late to take them back.

“Alexandria is the strongest person I know,” Aden replied. “But her duty often keeps her from happiness.” 

_Alexandria_. Clarke had never heard Lexa’s entire name before and it sent butterflies racing through her stomach. “Her duty to her people comes first,” Clarke agreed, though her tone was tinged with remorse.

Aden picked up on it, turning his blue eyes on her. “It does,” he agreed. “But she’s different when she’s with you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Aden shrugged, looking for the first time as young as his age. “She’s lighter,” he said, and Clarke wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say, but he continued on before she could question him. “It’s like the weight she carries isn’t as heavy.”

She sighed, feeling as if she knew exactly what he meant. The weight of the responsibilities she bore and the actions she committed all seemed lighter when Lexa was around. Somehow, the Commander always knew just what to say to help her deal with the burden of her duties, and she could only hope that she provided that same reprieve for Lexa.

“The feeling is mutual,” Clarke answered.

“You care for her,” he said, again a statement and not a question.

Clarke was silent a moment, mulling through her emotions before settling on what to say. “Yes,” she replied. “Lexa is special.”

“I’m sure she would say the same thing about you,” he stated.

Clarke felt her cheeks flush red. “I hope so.”

Aden shot her a slight smile, turning his gaze down to the city that sprawled out far below them. The residents were starting to stir and Clarke could barely make out people in the streets looking like tiny ants a hundred stories below. She knew it wouldn’t be long until vendors were milling about, calling their wares, and the entire city would be bustling with life. In the distance to the East, she could make out the line of the ocean stretching vast and infinite into the distance, and it was far closer than she had anticipated, perhaps only a day’s ride.

“What are you doing while Heda is in council this morning?” he asked her after a moment of silence.

Clarke shrugged. She was probably just going to take a bath and meander about the market place. “Nothing,” she replied.

“Would you care to join me and the other novitiates? Lexa leaves me in charge of training when she and Titus are in council,” he explained.

She felt a grin pulling at her cheeks and she let it spread. “I would like that.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke walked alongside Aden, the other novitiates following closely behind as they trudged up the hill to the training ground in the midmorning sun. They were surrounded by a group of a dozen guards or so, and she figured that it was to protect the Commander’s legacy from any attempt to end the line of succession. With the Grounder culture being as ruthless as she had seen, she wouldn’t put it past one of the clans to send an assassin to end the line of nightbloods if it meant putting their own prospect on the throne.

But, she felt safe in Polis. This was Lexa’s domain and she ruled over it vigilantly, guards positioned on every street corner, and she found it hard to believe that there would be any crime in the city. Beyond that, the people were friendly and they cared for one another. Even the vendors gave their wares away freely half of the time, or traded for something of lesser value. The Commander had built her city on the pillars of trade, welfare, and community, and it showed in the happiness of her people and the way they loved their leader. It sent butterflies soring through Clarke’s chest and a familiar rush of warmth through her body.

They reached the top of the hill, and the view of Polis below them was breathtaking, though nothing compared to watching the sunrise from the top of the tower with Lexa snuggled into her side. She thought about the kiss they had almost shared and it had her forcing back a smile. Her feelings for Lexa were vast, and confusing, and utterly unexplainable, but also entirely overwhelming. She couldn’t even begin to try and sort them all into place.

The novitiates filed in to the training ground and spread out in a semi-circle facing Aden. He wore a long black robe and an impassive expression that reminded her so much of the way that Lexa carried herself, and she could see so much of the Commander in the boy. He had a blunt training sword strapped to his waist, and he folded his hands behind his back, waiting for the rest of his peers to settle into their respective positions.

“Let’s pair up and spar,” Aden said, delivering instruction to the group of children. There was an odd number of them, and Clarke wondered who Aden would be paired with as the ten other kids doubled up into five pairs. “Clarke, you can spar with me,” Aden smirked from beside her and she had her answer.

She felt herself laugh, but then choked it back when she saw the serious expression the boy was wearing. “You’re joking right?” she asked.

“I do not joke, Clarke,” he replied, again reminding her of Lexa. “You’re _Heda Kom Skaikru_. You should learn to fight.”

He had a point. More than once Clarke had been put into situations where she wished she knew about hand-to-hand combat rather than relying on the gun that she’d left back in her bedroom since she’d arrived in Polis. She remembered the way Anya had given her a heavy beating, and the way that Lexa had to save her from one of the generals of the coalition. She remembered the way the Ice Nation warrior attempted to squeeze the life from her throat, and she wished that she had known how to wield a blade, or even a dagger, half as decently as she had seen Lexa do.

“Fine,” Clarke sighed. Aden smiled and tossed her the blunt sword from the sheath at his hip and then grabbed one of his own from a wooded rack off to the side of the training arena. “Show me what you got, kid,” Clarke joked, not sure if she would regret it or not.

Aden squared off in front of her, allowing her a moment to get a feel for the sword in her hand as Clarke swung it in long arcs in front of her, testing its weight. It was heavier than she thought it would be and she knew that she would tire easily against its mass. She set her feet similar to Aden’s watching how the boy stood slightly crouched, bent at the knees, and ready for an attack.

“Come at me, Clarke. I will defend,” he instructed.

Clarke obeyed and lunged forward, bringing the blade down in several awkward strikes that Aden easily batted away as if they were nothing more than flies buzzing about his head. He used a single hand to defend her blows, throwing them to the side, Clarke’s hands vibrating all the way up her arms with each clang of the blade. It wasn’t long before her muscles grew tired and she was gasping for breath, stepping back from Aden to take a rest.

“Breathe out when you strike,” he suggested. “It will give you more power. Also, bring your hands up further on the handle, it’ll steady the blade.”

She was amazed at his general knowledge and the ease in which he fought, and she knew that he had been doing this the majority of his life. He was so calm and poised, and his expression remained blank as he defended her attack, not showing a single sign of weakness or fatigue. She expected nothing less from Lexa’s star pupil.

Clarke made the adjustments he had suggested and when she could breathe again, she advanced, throwing more precise strikes towards his impenetrable guard. The new grip on the sword helped to ease the vibrations in her bones, and she could tell that there was more power behind her strikes because Aden now defended with two hands instead of one. 

“Good, Clarke,” he said, as he let one of her blows glance off. “Move your feet. Each swing of your blade should be felt within your entire body from your feet, to your hips, to your hands.” 

She listened and allowed herself to step in towards his guard, finding more power behind her blows than she thought she could possess. Aden’s face twisted slightly and she could tell that he was actually having to put effort into defending her now. He smiled when he asked, “Shall I go on offense now, Clarke?”

Her eyes went wide and before she could come up with an answer, he was advancing, though his blows were soft and slow, allowing her to adjust her body from attack to defense. She shuffled her feet as he had instructed her to, moving back or to the side with each strike of his blade, and soon she found herself in a rhythm of deflecting his timely blows. She knew that he was taking it very easy on her, and for a moment she thought that she could see amusement in the blue of his eyes, as if he was actually enjoying their lesson.

After a few more moments, he picked up his pace, testing her defense even further. Clarke felt sweat beading on her forward and her arms had already begun to shake, but she was determined not to back down. Her muscles were screaming in protest with each blow that she deflected, and she could tell that he was still only going half-speed. In one effortless motion, he let his blade meet hers and slid it down the length towards where she gripped the handle as he spun it once and ripped her blade from her hands, disarming her.

Clarke stepped back with a smile on her face and her hands in the air in surrender. “You’ll definitely have to teach me that one day,” she mused, eyeing her blade that had landed ten yards away.

Aden laughed and the sound was music to her ears. This boy was so like his mentor. “Maybe one day, Clarke,” he replied. “You did well. With more practice, I think you’ll make a decent warrior.”

She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or if he truly meant it as a genuine compliment, but she thought maybe the former because Grounders typically lacked any sarcasm in their humor. “Thank you for being patient with me,” she said, knowing that he could have spent his training time actually working hard rather than showing her how to hold a sword.

“Better me than Heda,” he laughed. “Lexa does not know how to go easy.”

Clarke pictured Lexa being the most competitive person ever, always having to win, and it brought a smile to her face. “I’m sure Lexa would have put me on my back.”

“Twice,” he confirmed with a nod though his smile was wide and they both knew that Lexa would never actually hurt her. “Would you like to try something else?” he asked.

Clarke wondered why he was being so attentive and found herself asking before she could muzzle her words. “Why are you spending time with me like this?” she asked. “I know you have better things to do.”

He shrugged and glanced around at the other novitiates that were still locked in their own battles. “I do the same thing each day,” he replied. “It is nice to have a change from the routine.”

Clarke gave him an eyebrow raise, suspecting that it was far more than just a distraction from his daily life. He was much better disciplined than that. “Is that the only reason?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he smiled again and it reached his eyes, glowing with a hint of mischief. “Lexa cares for you. I wanted to get to know you myself.”

Clarke felt her cheeks flush red and she knew that she was blushing. “Oh? Are you gonna pass judgment on me?” she joked, giving him a gentle elbow nudge. 

She was surprised at how easy it was to fall into a gentle rhythm of joking and laughter with this boy. He was still so youthful and full of life, not yet marred by the world and the death and violence that came with it, despite all that he had already been through. He was happy and carefree, and wise beyond his years, and so much like Lexa that it made Clarke’s heart well with joy.

“I’ll reserve my judgment for after I’ve taught you how to shoot a bow,” Aden mused. “If you’re not a deadeye, this probably isn’t going to work out.”

She knew he was teasing, but his tone was so serious that it had her questioning him for a moment before he shot her a playful wink. He motioned for her to follow him over to where a weapons rack was set up in front of a hay target that was painted with various colored rings. She found herself smiling as she trailed after him and she remembered how only a few days ago the concept of ever smiling again was so foreign to her. The pain was still there, lurking in the back of her heart and stalking the back of her mind, ready to jump out at any moment. But it was less, at bay for now, and she thought it was amazing the difference that a few days in Polis, with Lexa, could make.

Aden stood in front of Clarke, sizing her up from head to toe before giving a firm nod and selecting a bow from the weapons rack for her to try. He picked one of his own and gave a quick demonstration, showing her the proper form and technique, and then let his arrow fly. Clarke watched as it sliced through the air and sunk directly into the center ring of the target with a loud _thunk_.

"Impressive," she mused, giving the boy a gentle nudge with her elbow.

He handed her an arrow and motioned towards the target. "You try."

Clarke took the arrow and knocked it into place on the taught bowstring glancing towards Aden for conformation that she was doing it right. When he gave her an encouraging nod, she pulled the arrow back towards her with her left hand and watched as the tip of the arrow jumped off the spot in which it was supposed to rest on the bow. The string was heavy against her arm and her muscles were already shaking and tired from their mock duel.

Aden watched her, amusement in his eyes, as she struggled to keep the bow steady. "Do not touch the base of the arrow when you draw back, Clarke," he instructed. "Keep your pointer finger above the knock, and then your middle and ring finger below it. Only use those three fingers to draw."

She obeyed, and this time when she drew back, she held her right arm straight in front of her and kept the fingers of her left hand on the bowstring as he had told her. The arrow stayed pressed against the bow and she was able to take some semblance of aim before her arm grew tired and she was forced to release. The arrow skidded quickly across the ground in a direction that was nowhere near the target and she felt her cheeks go hot with embarrassment.

"You're not drawing back all the way," he stated. "Bring your fingers to the corner of your mouth and aim down the shaft of the arrow."

Clarke sighed and nodded, keenly aware that she was probably making a fool of herself and she wondered if the other novitiates would laugh about it later. Her people were not born and bred to be warriors as the Grounders were. They did not train their entire lives on the various hand held weapons that could kill man or beast. They were raised in space, accustomed to technology, and the only weapons they had ever known were guns. But guns took ammunition, and what would happen to her people when the ammo ran out?

They needed to learn these skills. These were the skills that would help them survive on Earth. Instead of giving up, Clarke set her stance again and drew another arrow back to her chin, this time aiming directly down the shaft. When she felt that she had a shot lined up, she released, and she watched as the arrow soared five feet over the target and sunk deep into the dirt behind it.

Clarke let out an exasperated groan and stuck out her hand to Aden, requesting another arrow. She was going to hit the target, even if it took her the entire night. He laughed and handed her another one, subtly admiring her persistence as she pulled it back to her ear again. She stared down the shaft of the arrow, but did not allow herself to overthink it this time, and instead released after just a few seconds. The arrow wobbled a bit in the air before correcting its trajectory and landing in the outermost ring of the target. 

It was by no means an impressive shot, but to Clarke it was a success and she threw her arms in the air with a loud cheer. "Watch out, Aden," she mused. "I'll be as good as you soon."

"Doubtful, Clarke," he replied though again he was smiling and she could tell that he was attempting to joke with her.

She asked for another arrow but before she could take aim, a familiar voice called from behind them. "I am happy to see you learning to use a real weapon, Clarke."

The voice sent warmth radiating down her spine and a swarm of butterflies soaring through her stomach, and Clarke knew who it was even before she turned around. There was only one person who had ever had that effect on her. There was only one person who had the ability to excite her and set her nerves on fire all in the same breath.

Lexa strode up behind them wearing a confident smirk and a black overcoat lined with brown fur across the cuffs and collar. It was long in the back and short in the front, revealing a gray shirt underneath and skintight pants that looked as if they had been painted on. Her boots buckled up the sides the length of her calf and she had a thigh guarder ringed with daggers of different shapes and sizes tightened securely on her left leg. She also wore a ribbed waist guarder and the symbol of the coalition sat prominently between her green eyes.

"Heda," Aden said with a bow as Lexa approached.

Clarke felt herself smiling, noticing that the world seemed to grow just a few shades brighter, another effect that she was starting to associate with Lexa. "Commander," Clarke addressed her with a wink. "Aden has been trying to teach me all day. I might be hopeless."

"Even the hopeless have hope, Clarke" Lexa replied, motioning towards the target. "Let us see what you've learned."

Clarke felt the nerves in her stomach twist and she wanted desperately not to make a fool of herself in front of Lexa. She pulled back hard on the bowstring, harder than any of her previous attempts, and brought the knock of the arrow to the corner of her mouth. She felt fingers slide over her waist and she jolted as Lexa slid in behind her, pulling Clarke’s body into her own chest so that she could see where she was aiming.

The nerves in her stomach instantly gave way to heat as she felt Lexa's voice in her ear. "Square your stance," Lexa whispered, using her leg to widen Clarke's feet. "And bring your elbow up," she said, lifting Clarke's left elbow so that it hovered above her ear.

"Like that?" Clarke asked, her voice suddenly low and hoarse and she wondered if the Commander could hear the desire behind it.

"Just like that, Clarke," Lexa muttered and Clarke felt a wave of heat between her legs and instantly wished that they were back in her room in Polis, away from the prying eyes of others. "Now, breathe out when you release," Lexa whispered, perhaps even quieter than before. Her hands slid up from Clarke's waist to rest gently below her breasts and Clarke had to do all that she could to keep a soft moan from escaping her lips. "Breathe from here."

Clarke felt her body begin to tremble and she could not tell if it was from actual lack of strength or if having Lexa this near just made her weak. She let out a slow, shaky, breath and couldn’t help but notice the way that Lexa breathed out with her, hot and wet against her ear. She let the arrow loose, and watched in complete amazement as it sunk into the center ring of the target, just slightly off from the bulls-eye.

“Good, Clarke,” Lexa said aloud, taking a slight step back and putting a gap between their bodies. “You’re a natural.”

Instantly Clarke felt as if it was too much distance, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she turned and beamed Lexa a bright smile, radiating with pride at her accomplishment. “I had a good teacher,” she replied.

“Oh? I hope you are referring to me,” Lexa answered, but there was a lightness to her tone that Clarke had only ever seen a few times.

She picked up on it, and let it linger between them, coaxing the moment into one of light-hearted happiness. “Actually, I was referring to Aden,” she said, shooting the boy a wink. 

He stood off to the side, forgotten in the midst of Lexa’s arrival and Clarke felt a pang of guilt. His mouth had been pressed to a firm line as he watched their interaction, but the corners turned up in a slight smile at Clarke’s comment. “Heda is the one who taught me, but the student often times surpasses the master,” he quipped.

Lexa glanced between them and feigned a look of shock. “You really think you can best me?” she asked, green eyes bouncing back and forth between Clarke and Aden’s growing smiles.

Clarke shrugged. “I don’t know, Lexa, Aden is pretty good…” she teased.

“Hmm,” Lexa mused, a small grin playing at her mouth. “I guess there is only one way to settle this.” Lexa took Clarke’s bow gently from her hand and motioned towards the target.

Aden’s expression settled into one of steely reserve as he squared his stance and pulled an arrow from the quiver beside him. “Are you sure you want to lose in front of Clarke, Heda?” he asked, and Clarke was sure that she caught Lexa’s smile falter as if the thought actually made her nervous.

Aden knocked his arrow into place and pulled the string back to his ear as he lifted it to aim down the shaft. He breathed out, relaxing his shoulders and letting the string just roll of the tips of his finger, sending the arrow zipping towards its mark. It hit home, landing heavily in the center ring of the target, just clipping the very center of the bulls-eye. He smiled at his shot and gave it a firm nod, pleased at his results before arching an eyebrow in challenge towards his mentor.

“Impressive,” Lexa commented, her tone sincere and tinged with an air of pride in her young pupil.

Lexa took an arrow of her own, glancing towards Clarke to make certain that she was watching and letting a slow cocky half-grin prop up the corner of her mouth. In one quick, seemingly effortless motion, the Commander knocked her arrow and brought it back to her chin, releasing it almost immediately. The entire action happened faster than a blink, and a second later her arrow was sinking directly into the center of the bulls-eye, just a fraction closer than Aden’s. 

Clarke gasped, stunned at how easy Lexa had made it look and the warmth coursing through her body increased ten-fold. Her eyes raked over the Commander from top to bottom twice, taking in every detail as if seeing her for the first time, and she never knew that she could feel such attraction to a single person. Something about Lexa drew her in and held her there, captivating her as if every action and every movement was art of its own. She felt a familiar itch to create and wondered what it would be like to draw the Commander.

Lexa held her gaze, a light dust of red tingeing her sculpted cheekbones beneath Clarke’s stare before she turned her attention to Aden. “You’re jerking your hand at the last second,” she said, always the teacher. “Let it slip from your fingers. Do not pluck it.”

“Yes, Heda,” Aden nodded, resetting his stance. 

Clarke enjoyed the competitive nature between the two, it was light-hearted and good-natured, and she could tell that they shared years upon years of moments such as these. She also admired the way that they could compete with each other, yet learn from one another too. Lexa was constantly bestowing her invaluable knowledge upon others, but she couldn’t help but think that this boy had taught Lexa a thing or two of his own. Perhaps he was the one who showed her that she could still care for someone, even after Costia’s death.

She watched as Aden knocked another arrow and drew it back to his chin to aim. His motions this time around seemed more fluid and his hand stayed pressed to his cheek as he released the arrow and let it fly. A moment later, the arrow dipped into the target, just to the left of Lexa’s as if framing the very center of it. It was a better shot than his first, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to look at Lexa for her approval. 

“Very good, Aden,” she complimented, and he nodded his relief, stepping back and folding his hands behind his back.

Lexa took another arrow and repeated her actions, this time faster than the first if that was even possible. The arrow _thunked_ home between her first shot and Aden’s second, slicing right through the center of the target. She was the clear and apparent winner and she wore a confident smirk, though she did not gloat. Instead she turned to Clarke, her gaze lingering for a moment on Clarke’s lips before meeting her eyes. 

“So, who is the winner, Clarke?” she asked, arching her eyebrow slightly.

Clarke made a show of pretending to scrutinize their shots before shrugging her shoulders. “Too close to call,” she said, shooting Aden a wink that had him beaming.

“Very well,” Lexa laughed. “It is a draw.”

She handed Aden her bow before giving his hair a gentle ruffle and Clarke’s heart melted at the interaction. She watched the way Lexa smiled and how it reached all the way to her eyes, and the way she looked at the boy with such adoration and affection. This was a side of Lexa that she had never seen or expected before, and there was something that changed within her when she was around Aden. He had the same effect on the Commander that Clarke had, and Lexa visibly softened when she was in their presences. 

With Aden, it was like watching a mother and her child, or in this case a sister with her younger brother. Lexa eyed him with pride, having raised him and shaped him into the young man that he was quickly becoming. There was also something fiercely protective in how she carried herself when she was near him, as if she would take on the entire world to keep him safe.

It was different with Clarke. It was as if all the hardness and strength that was the Commander seeped away and left behind an embodiment of tenderness and passion. She had no idea how someone could be so hard and so soft at the same time, and Lexa was a mystery that she felt unabated longing to solve. She wondered if Lexa could even see the changes in herself, or if she was so used to being impassive and in control that she didn’t realize she could let herself be free to feel— free to care.

Lexa moved towards the edge of the training ground and hovered there, motioning with a slight head nod for Clarke to stand beside her. They watched as the novitiates continued training and Aden fell in with two of the elder looking trainees. They attacked him, two versus one, and he defended them easily with a spear, twirling it around his back and about his shoulders. He made the fight look like a graceful dance, and Clarke wondered what it would be like to watch Lexa engaged in battle. She imagined that it would be a thing of effortless grace and beauty to behold, but then the thought of the Commander in any sort of danger sent a surge of panic through her chest and she instantly pushed the images from her mind.

"He likes you," Lexa stated, her eyes remaining fixed on the fight that Aden was now winning.

"And he loves you," Clarke replied. "They all do, Lexa. Aden, the novitiates, your people. I never would have expected any of...this," she finished motioning her arm towards the outstretched city below them. This place, the people and the culture, were truly a wonder.

Lexa turned her gaze to meet Clarke's, a hint of reservation in the green of her eyes and her voice was soft when she spoke. "Our ways may seem harsh to you, but we can accomplish more than just killing, Clarke."

Clarke nodded, unsure how to respond. A month ago she would have thought that the Grounder culture was barbaric, and that killing was their way of life. But since arriving in Polis, since being around Lexa, she had gotten to see the beauty in their ways. They took care of one another and dealt in trade rather than currency, they were generous and kind, and within these city walls they thrived. Then there was the Commander, whom the world knew to be hard and calculating and ruthless, but whom Clarke knew to be caring and passionate and so incredibly _good_.

"Your ways are no different than mine," Clarke replied after a long lapse of silence. Lexa arched her eyebrow in question, but Clarke quickly continued on. "On the Ark, when someone committed a crime, no matter how minor it was, the sentence was death. I know a boy whose father was floated because he stole medicine to save his son’s life..." she trailed off thinking of John Murphy.

She expected Lexa to have a response, but instead she just looked at her, her head cocked slightly to the side and her jaw clenching back and forth in thought. Clarke knew that the Commander was waiting for her to finish before she offered her opinions.

Clarke cleared her throat before proceeding. "The Council sent the Hundred down here without knowing if it was even survivable, sacrificing the lives of one-hundred children... my own mother..." she trailed off again feeling the familiar sting of pain and regret in her heart that she had grown so accustomed to. "And then we arrived here and we have done nothing but fight and kill since the moment we landed."

Lexa stared at her a few seconds longer, letting the words linger in the air. "Maybe our people are not so different, Clarke," she stated. "We are all just doing what we must to survive."

Clarke had heard the words a dozen times over, but it wasn't until that moment that she truly listened to them and let them sink in. Her people thought the Grounders to be the savages, but they never thought to look upon their own actions and to turn their scrutinizing and accusatory glares inward. Their ways were no different, their actions no less brutal or barbaric. They invaded a land that was not their own and had the audacity to call the Grounders' ways harsh and ruthless and wrong. They were no better. They would all sacrifice another person to survive and that was just the way the world worked whether they were living above it or on it.

"Maybe life should be about more than just surviving," Clarke replied, echoing her words of the past and letting her eyes fall down to Lexa's lips and back up again. The last time she had said those words...

"Maybe it should," Lexa agreed, letting their soft gazes linger together in a stellar mix of sky and forest.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke walked beside the Commander in the late afternoon sun, the bustling streets of Polis alive with life and energy around them. Lexa smiled brightly and waited patiently as people moved to greet her or bowed to her in reverence and respect. Clarke's presence in Polis had come to be expected and the people knew exactly who she was, treating her as an honored guest of the Commander. They offered her gifts of wine, food, and jewelry, though Clarke politely declined each time, having nothing to offer them in return. 

She was aware of the whispers that ensued as she walked by and the mutters of _Wanheda_ and _Mountain Slayer_ that followed. The titles still sent a wave of nausea through her and it did not sit right in her core being celebrated for the mass genocide of three hundred people, but she understood what her actions had meant for the Grounders. Clarke had ended a threat that had loomed over them for a hundred years, and they were honoring her for that fact alone, not necessarily for orchestrating the deaths of their enemies.

Still, it made her uneasy, and more than a few times she had to force back the pain and sorrow that threatened to grip her. She would not allow herself to slip back into that state of depression and despair that had nearly ended her life, not after all the progress she'd made to fight her way out of it. Clarke caught Lexa watching her, an expression of worry in her eyes as if she could see the gears turning in Clarke's mind, and she too was concerned for her well-being.

"Are you okay, Clarke?" she asked once they managed to move away from the crowd of people that had swarmed them.

"I'm fine," Clarke answered, a bit too quickly and she let a sheepish smile play on her face when Lexa shot her a raised eyebrow. 

The Commander fell into stride beside her, their fingertips brushing before Lexa let her hand close around Clarke's, giving it a gentle squeeze, then pulling away altogether. The action was so quick that Clarke thought she might have imagined it, but the slight flush of red in Lexa's cheeks told her otherwise. "It won't always be this way," Lexa said, keeping her eyes forward as they walked.

"What do you mean?"

"My people...see you as a hero. I know you don't see yourself in the same way, Clarke, but one day it won't be as hard to put on that mask," Lexa explained.

Clarke mulled her words over a moment. "Is that what you do?" she asked. "Wear a mask?"

"I am what my people need me to be," Lexa replied as if the answer was obvious. "Eventually you just learn to accept that every person will see something different when they look at you: a leader, a warrior, a murderer...a hero. We are what we are."

"How can you be everything that they need, and still be yourself?" Clarke asked, though she already knew the answer. The only time Lexa was ever allowed to be herself was in the confines of her private chambers, or when she was alone with Clarke.

Lexa let her gaze find Clarke's as they walked beside each other, and Clarke could see the longing in her features, as if she wished that she could simply just be herself. But they both knew that she would never be free. "We must separate feelings from duty, Clarke," she answered, vaguely, her gaze falling nervously to the ground.

Clarke sighed and let the subject drop. She could tell that it was making her uncomfortable and she did not want Lexa's image to falter in a public space where she knew dozens of people were watching. "How was your council meeting?" Clarke asked, hoping that the change in topic would offer relief from the tension that had been building around them.

Instead, she watched Lexa's eyes shift away nervously again, perhaps even more uncomfortable than she'd been a moment ago. "It was fine," she answered curtly.

Clarke eyed her wearily. "Is everything okay?" she asked. She recalled Aden telling Lexa that riders had arrived in the night and the matter sounded urgent.

"Yes, Clarke. All is being handled," she said, again a little to vaguely.

Clarke felt panic surge through her, the Commander's evasiveness making her far too nervous. "Lexa, is Camp Jaha in danger?" she asked, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"There is no threat upon Camp Jaha, Clarke," Lexa reassured her, letting their eyes meet so that Clarke could see the truth in them. Camp Jaha really was safe.

"Okay..." Clarke breathed a sigh of relief and felt the panic leave her, though she was still unsure as to why Lexa had reacted so strangely.

Her concerns were forgotten a moment later when she felt Lexa's hand close around hers again, pulling her towards a narrow side street. "Come, Clarke," Lexa said, all uneasiness gone from her expression and replaced with a confident smirk. "I've made dinner arrangements for us."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lexa led Clarke up a familiar winding staircase, trekking towards the top of the Polis tower as they had done that morning. When they emerged on the roof, Clarke was surprised to find that a dining table now sat where they had stood and gazed out over the city in the dawning light of a new day. There were two chairs and two place settings, and atop the table sat another feast of meats, cheeses, fruits and various sorts of bread and wine. Lexa must have instructed some of the servants to set the dinner up before she left and Clarke couldn't help the wide smile that spread across her face.

"Lexa, this is incredible," she whispered, feeling as if the moment required hushed tones as not to disturb the beauty and thoughtfulness behind it.

"You've seen the sunrise, and I wanted you to see the sunset too," Lexa explained. "Perhaps it will inspire future art."

Clarke stared at her, wanting nothing more than to tell her the mere action of looking into those green eyes is what inspired her. "You have an eye for natural beauty," is what she said instead.

"Yes," the Commander nodded. "I do." Though her gaze never left Clarke's face and she wasn’t sure if Lexa was speaking of the view or of her, but something told her that it was the latter. They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes longer before Lexa cleared her throat and startled them both back to reality. "Come, Clarke, let's sit."

The sun was still high in the late afternoon sky, though it had already began its downward arc to the West and the light it gave off was soft and playful rather than blaring. Clarke could see the vast ocean to the East, though a heavy gray marine layer had settled over it, hanging low like a blanket over the sea. The light smell of salt hung in the air when the breeze shifted across the roof and she longed to see the ocean up close and feel the sand beneath her feet. Behind them, the Polis flame blazed, cutting through the nippy autumn air and radiating heat like a furnace.

Clarke settled in to her seat across from Lexa and waited patiently as the Commander served a heaping pile of various foods onto her plate and then passed it to her. She reached to pour them some wine, but Lexa gently grabbed her wrist and gave her a slight arch of her brow before taking the jug of spirits from Clarke’s hand and filling both of their cups. Clarke settled back in her chair with a smile and simply enjoyed the way the Lexa tended to her needs. It was a feeling that she was not accustomed to.

She was surprised when Lexa spoke first, knowing that the Grounder’s did not feel the need to fill the empty spaces with words during meals. “Did you enjoy your afternoon with Aden?” she asked, taking a bite of the meat in front of her.

Clarke nodded, taking a sip of her wine and letting it swish through her mouth, tasting the hearty undertones of nut and some type of berry. “Yes. He’s a great kid, Lexa. I can see why you care about him.”

“I care about all of my—

“I know,” Clarke cut her off. “You care about all of your novitiates. But Aden is different. Do you even realize how much you light up when he’s around?” she asked.

Lexa’s cheeks flushed red and she glanced away, trying to hide it. “Aden is important to me.”

“I can tell,” Clarke mused. “You don’t want anyone to see the way you care, but I see it. I see how you look at him with sheer pride, and the way you’re always scanning for any sort of threat like you need to defend him with your life.”

“Yes,” the Commander nodded and left her response short, simply agreeing.

Clarke took another sip of wine. “I also see the way he makes you smile, and the way that you two joke with each other. You’re different when he’s around, lighter almost, like he makes you stronger.”

“Aden was there after Costia…” Lexa whispered. “He…helped,” she settled, deciding on the word with a single nod. “I want to be able to protect him.”

“But you don’t know how,” Clarke finished.

Lexa’s eyes shifted, jaw clenching, and Clarke could tell that she was choosing her words carefully. “We cant always protect those we love, Clarke,” she said. “To be Commander is to be alone.”

“But you’re not alone, Lexa. You have him, and…you have me.”

Their gazes met, and Clarke thought that she would hear some lofty words of wisdom or some cryptic response, crafted by years of pain and years of loneliness. She was surprised when Lexa simply nodded and replied, “I know.”

She could tell where Lexa’s thoughts were wandering and she knew what worried her most. “This peace treaty will work, Lexa. Aden will never have to face his own conclave.”

“I could only hope, Clarke,” Lexa said, letting a small grin play at her face and lightening her tone. “Because if he faces his own conclave that means I will have met my untimely end.”

Clarke’s expression fell to a serious one and her heart nearly stopped beating. “Don’t even joke about that,” she snapped. “That is never going to happen.”

Lexa’s smile dropped, though her tone remained light. “Do not fear, Clarke,” she assured. “I promise that I will be fine.”

There was no way that Lexa could know that, and the Grounder culture was so ruthless that she knew danger was around every corner, but somehow she believed her. Lexa had a way of putting her at ease, calming her nerves and squashing the fears that lurked in the back of her mind. She brought warmth with her when she was near and it settled over Clarke like a blanket, and even in the midst of peril, she felt safe. Lexa was infinite, and Clarke knew that there would be no snuffing out a life that radiated brighter than the sun.

They finished their meal in silence after that, simply enjoying the view and the comfort of each other’s company. The wordless space between them was not uncomfortable or awkward, but rather natural, as if they had known each other for ten lifetimes before and were simply finding each other again. 

When they were done, Clarke rose and wandered over to the edge of the guardrail, standing in the very same spot that Lexa had nearly kissed her that morning. With the warmth of the Polis flame behind her and the sun dipping low in the sky in front of her, she felt at peace. Lexa came to stand beside her, letting their arms brush together and their fingers dust as they watched the sky change to deep shades of pink and orange and blue.

Clarke leaned in to Lexa’s side, resting her head on her shoulder in the quiet evening air. The Commander stiffened beneath her touch, but relaxed a moment later, bringing her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and pulling her in closer. The moment was intimate and soft, and Clarke felt as if she could stay in it forever, simply letting Lexa cling tightly to her. Something passed between them, a silent understanding that this was not anything that would soon fade away, and they both breathed it in as if it gave them each new life.

“So, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, not wanting to shatter the moment. “Do you prefer the dawn or the dusk?” she asked, watching the last edge of the fading orange sun dip behind Mount Weather. 

“I prefer the hope that comes with something new,” she replied, pulling herself closer to Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it. Lexa definitely has some issues of her own built up behind that impassive exterior, but it is ever her duty to put her needs aside and focus on her people. I really want to illustrate the sort of "prisoner" that her role makes her into, and the way that Clarke sort of frees her from that, and I hope that I've done that well thus far. Also, what happened in the council meeting? What is Lexa trying to keep from Clarke? You'll definitely find out next time. I really enjoyed writing the interactions between Clarke and Aden and Aden and Lexa within this chapter, and his character is one that I love so much. He's sort of like the child version of Lexa that she never got to be, and I really want to capture that. I hope you guys enjoyed this update, and I'll see you next week with another one. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your feedback and suggestions.
> 
> \- Alex


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen guys, this chapter is so special to me and I have absolutely adored writing it for you, so I decided to go ahead and post it early because I couldn't contain my excitement any longer. This is a very emotional chapter, and the feels run high from start to finish, so I hope that you enjoy that aspect of it. It's also a huge chapter in regards to character development and plot development, and we're gonna see some major events start to reveal themselves. Also wanted to say thank you for all the comments and kudos, they mean the world to me and I love hearing your feedback. Enjoy, and see you at the end of the chapter!
> 
> -Alex

Clarke sat at a round white table in front of a wall-length Plexiglas window. The vast expanse of the universe stretched out before her, exploding with stars and bursting with planets, all of which were so far away that she could not distinguish the difference between them aside from varying flashes of color. Below her, Earth revolved slowly, silently, and infinitely; a constant reminder that humanity was broken, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled that she was broken too. 

However, she could not concern herself with that now as the Ark floated high in orbit above the Amazon. The Rainforest below was the brightest shade of green that she had ever seen, aside from a pair of eyes that lingered like a watchful guardian on the surface of her memory. Those eyes made her feel safe, and she felt herself relaxing back into her seat, watching as the galaxy floated by in shades of purple and blue and she wished that she had some paints so that she could capture the tranquility of the moment and freeze it in time.

As if on queue, a figure slid into the seat across the table from her, pushing a blank sketchpad in her direction. She glanced up into the kind blue eyes of her father and he smiled, easily letting it reach all the way to his ears as deep dimples burrowed themselves into his cheeks. He looked warm, almost as if his entire body was radiating a bright, glowing heat, and just the image of him made Clarke’s heart flood with happiness. His hair was longer than the last time she had seen him, and his wide grin was hidden behind a shaggy blonde beard, flecked with white and gray, but she knew it was there nonetheless.

“It’s been a while, kiddo,” he said, his voice brimming with affection as he pressed a pencil into her hand. 

“Dad,” Clarke gasped, knowing even in her subconscious that her father was dead and this had to be a dream. It set her on edge, and she shifted her gaze around the room, waiting for the moment to inevitably turn into a crushing nightmare that she had grown so accustomed to.

Jake looked at her quizzically, arching a brow before letting out a deep sigh. “Don’t be afraid, Clarke,” he said, drawing her eyes back in. “You’re safe.”

The sincerity in his voice was enough to put her at ease, and though she shouldn’t, she believed him. It was so hard not to with his kind blue eyes and loving expression that she had missed so much staring her in the face. She put words to her thoughts, letting them fill the space between them. “I miss you, Dad,” she whispered.

“I miss you too, kiddo,” he replied, though his smile did not falter. He motioned towards the sketchpad that he had pushed in her direction. “I always loved watching you draw.”

“Why?” Clarke asked as she pulled the sketchpad closer and sat up in her chair, glancing out the window again for inspiration before letting her pencil touch paper to trace the first lines of her sketch. 

His gaze fell to her agile hands as they danced about the sketchpad, though wandered up to take in the expression on her face after a few moments. She looked so serene, so calm and beautiful, yet focused, her brow furrowing in gentle concentration. “You look so at peace, Clarke,” he whispered. “I miss that look. I don’t see it often anymore.”

“Peace is a foreign concept,” she replied, idly echoing the same words Lexa had said to her. Green eyes flashed in the back of her mind again and her sketch hand shifted without thought, though she did not notice. 

“You’re going to change that, kid. You and that Commander,” he said, his tone one of admiration and respect.

The rhythm of Clarke’s drawing faltered and she glanced up. “Lexa,” she whispered, feeling the tug on her heart that came with every thought of the Commander. “Peace is her vision. She’s—

“She’s something else, kid. But so are you. You’ve got a lot of people counting on you,” he reminded her.

She knew she should feel guilty for having left Camp Jaha behind, but in that moment, with her father looking at her like she held all the stars in the sky, she couldn’t bring herself to care. “You think we could ever learn to coexist?” she asked, returning to her drawing.

“I think that people will follow you. You’re a leader, Clarke, you always have been,” he stated, his voice laced with pride.

“I’m not being much of a leader right now,” she admitted, letting her guilt win over for just a moment.

Jake sighed, pushing a strand of blonde hair from his eyes. “You’re doing more for them from where you are, taking care of yourself, than you would be if you were by your mother’s side. It’s okay to put your needs first sometimes.”

“Lexa puts the needs of her people before her own,” Clarke replied, the words leaving a sour taste behind as if she wished them to fall into a world of nonexistence. 

He nodded, seeing the truth in her statement. “Her culture demands her to.”

“Blood must have blood,” she said, letting her hand skitter across the paper as she added shades of black and gray to her sketch.

“I know you don’t believe that, kid. Just like I know you don’t believe you’re solely accountable for Mount Weather.”

The mere mention of Mount Weather on her father’s lips had her stomach in knots and her head spinning with nausea. The thought of him seeing what she had done there was almost too much to bear. “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she whispered, glancing out of the window again so that she would not have to meet his gaze, though she knew she would find no judgment there.

“You’re the same person you have always been, Clarke. Your actions don’t change that, if anything, they strengthen that,” he explained.

She finally met his eyes and found them brimming with so much love that it pulled tears to the surface of her own. “I have changed though, Dad.”

He shook his head and leaned across the table, cupping his hand to her cheek. His flesh was so warm against her own that she could almost believe he was actually there, but somewhere in the haziness of her subconscious, she knew she was dreaming. “You’ve grown, Clarke. You’re adapting and surviving and evolving, but who you are as a person has always been the same. The person you are is what allowed you to make the hard decisions in the first place. You’d sacrifice everything for the people you love.”

“Even myself,” she admitted, letting a solemn tear fall.

“Especially yourself,” he said, dropping his hand to swipe the tear away. “Self sacrifice is the easiest sort to make. But who you are in here,” he whispered, letting his hand fall further and pressing over the spot above her heart. “That never changes.”

Clarke brought her palm up to cover his hand, wanting desperately to be closer to him, to not let this moment fade. He made her feel so safe and whole again. “I wish we could just go back,” she said. “I just want to be okay again.”

“You’re getting there, kid. We can’t go back.” Jake pressed a kiss to her forehead before shifting his weight away and standing up. “But it’s easier to go forward when you have someone like Lexa helping you.”

Clarke nodded, again feeling the warmth that came with thinking about the Commander. “She makes me feel safe,” she stated.

“I know,” he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That look you get on your face when you’re drawing, that look that is filled with so much peace and serenity…you get that same look when you’re looking at her.”

“I do?” she asked, unaware of that her expression reflected exactly what she was feeling inside whenever Lexa was near.

“And you can’t seem to get your mind off of her,” he joked, motioning towards the completed drawing on the table. “Even your subconscious mind.”

Clarke glanced down, taking in her sketch for the first time. She had intended to draw the galaxy that stretched before her in wispy clouds of purple and blue, dotted with white and yellow stars. But when she looked at her drawing, she found familiar eyes staring back at her, framed in deep black war paint. Only, the war paint was not solid black, but speckled with the view of the universe as if Lexa was gazing at her from the depths of space. If there had been color in the drawing, it would look as if the galaxy itself was cradling the Earth.

Her cheeks flushed red and she glanced up at her father, but he was already moving towards the door. “Dad,” she called, halting him in his tracks. “Don’t go yet.”

“I’ll be around, kid,” he replied, again letting a warm smile light up his features. “I’m always around.”

“Where?” Clarke asked, feeling the desperation in her voice and trying not to let the sob that had welled up in her throat escape.

“In here,” he said, pointing to his head. “And here,” he added, letting his hand close over his own heart this time. “I’m so proud of you, Clarke.”

The door behind Jake slid open, revealing a warm bright room, the light coming through so intense that Clarke could not make out any details inside. He stepped back, his eyes lingering on hers a moment longer before he blew her a kiss that she wanted to reach out and grab and never let go of. She wasn’t ready for this moment to end, and she wanted nothing more than to stay in it forever.

“Wait, Dad,” she yelled. “I love you.”

“I’ll always be with you,” he replied, letting the door shut behind him.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open as she dragged herself from her dream, though she woke calmly in the clutches of Lexa’s warm arms rather than the clutches of a nightmare. She opened her eyes slowly, vaguely aware that it was still the middle of the night, the light from their single candle casting bouncing shadows across the blank space of Lexa’s bedroom walls. She felt the Commander’s arms around her waist, still in the same position as they had fallen asleep in, and she idly wondered if she’d ever be able to find sleep on her own again. Though the thought of falling into Lexa’s arms every night sounded much more appealing.

She listened to the rhythm of Lexa breathing steadily in her ear, hot and soft against the bare flesh of her neck, and there was something comforting about being pressed so close together. The bed was large and inviting around them, but they chose to share the same small space, allowing their heads to rest on the same pillow, or in Lexa’s case, pressed against Clarke’s back. Their legs were tangled together, one of Lexa’s between both of Clarke’s and the Commander’s other leg draped across all three. A few weeks ago, the thought of being so close to another person would have made Clarke uncomfortable, but this measure of intimacy, this proximity with Lexa, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She would have been content to just stay like that all night, listening to the sound of Lexa’s heavy breathing and the soft sighs she let out in her sleep, but after her dream, she felt the need to feel the night air on her skin. She wanted that cool burst to wash away the feeling of longing and despair left behind after seeing her father. She knew that it was just a dream, that he hadn’t actually been there speaking to her, but it had felt real enough to leave her shaken. She swore that she could still feel the warmth of his hand against her cheek.

Clarke shuffled towards the edge of the bed and felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth when Lexa’s hands fisted themselves in the dredges of her shirt and she made a small whine in protest. It was the most adorable sound Clarke had ever heard and she had to take a deep breath to keep her heart from exploding inside her chest. She glanced down at the Commander and took in the serenity of her features, soft and angelic in sleep, cheeks flushed slightly pink and again Clarke felt the urge to draw; to create and capture this moment before it fleeted away. Lexa had that inspiring effect on her and she thought that she would never see anything more beautiful and pure in her lifetime than the person she was looking at right now.

Resolving herself to the fact that she would have stayed there and stared at Lexa until the sun came up, Clarke peeled her eyes away and gently pulled herself from the Commander’s grasp. She moved as silently as she could, careful not to wake her. Clarke knew that a peaceful night’s sleep was as rare for Lexa as it was for her, and she did not want to disturb whatever dream Lexa was having that did not induce tears or fearful trembling. 

Clarke swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling the cold floor beneath her bare feet and it was a stark contrast to the warmth of Lexa’s arms. She knew that the night air would be chill against her skin, dressed in nothing but shorts and a long t-shirt, but she didn’t care. She moved silently to the balcony door and popped it open, trying to make as little noise as possible as she moved out into the night.

She was right. A blast of freezing autumn air swept over her entire body, spurring goose bumps over her flesh and making the hair on her arms and legs stand at attention. Her short breaths hung in the air in billowing puffs of white that floated up and away in front of her, and she contemplated stepping back into the room and fleeing directly back to the heat and comfort that was Lexa’s bed. But then she caught sight of the moon, and it had her freezing in place.

Clarke had lost track of time once they had landed on the Drop Ship, but she figured that the month was October, albeit she wasn’t entirely ensure of the day. In front of her, was the largest full moon she had ever seen, hanging low in the sky and floating just above the horizon as if it was anchored to the earth. It wasn’t the typical bright white tinged with gray and silver as the moon normally was, but instead it glowed a faint orange color, bathing the world in a soft eerie light. 

She was so entranced by it that she didn’t realize anyone else was with her until she felt soft arms slide around her waist from behind. “It’s a harvest moon,” Lexa said, voice laced with sleep as she rested her chin on Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke had read about harvest moons on the Ark, though she had never seen one. The moon always looked the same from space. “In ancient times it symbolized the start of the autumn harvest, allowing farmers to work through the night beneath the light of the moon in preparation of winter,” she mused. She knew that she was rambling, but the feel of Lexa’s arms wrapped protectively around her kept her mind from forming any relevant thought.

“In my culture, it symbolizes companionship. Working together and promoting trade and unity through the winter months so that no village goes hungry,” Lexa explained, and again Clarke was amazed at the collaboration and kindness of the Grounder culture.

She had been wrong about them. The Sky People had landed here and proclaimed them savages before even getting to know their ways and their traditions. She felt another wave of guilt knowing that her people still had not seen the truth in the Grounder culture, locked safely away behind the walls of Camp Jaha, letting hate and distrust cloud their minds. It was disturbing that so much hate and violence could be the result of simply misunderstanding, or not taking time to understand, a people that were different than their own. Then again, humans had always been quick to outcast and persecute others for simply being different, it was the way the world had always worked, and a nuclear apocalypse did little to change that.

Clarke sighed deeply, relaxing further into Lexa’s arms as she let herself lean back into her strong chest. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” she whispered.

“All is well, Clarke,” Lexa replied, squeezing Clarke tighter as a shiver racked through her body. “What are you doing out here?”

“I had a dream. I…I just needed some air,” she answered, running her hands up and down the length of Lexa’s arms around her waist, trying to create friction for warmth.

“Another nightmare?” Lexa asked.

Clarke shrugged against her chest. “I dreamed about my father,” she admitted, feeling Lexa slightly tense behind her.

“Come inside so we can talk about it,” she replied, already pulling Clarke through the door and out of the chilly night air. 

The warmth of the room washed over them and Clarke instantly felt her blood begin to thaw, though Lexa moved about lighting more candles and stoking a fire to life in the fireplace. When the wood was cracking and popping and the walls were awash with a comforting yellow glow, Lexa grabbed a blanket from the bed and then dragged Clarke over to the couch, wrapping it around Clarke’s shoulders before dropping into the seat next to her. 

They sat about a foot apart and when their eyes met, Clarke could see Lexa looking for something in her features as her gaze wandered from her eyes down to her lips and back up again. Lexa’s wild brown hair was tousled with sleep and her lips were pursed into a thoughtful pout as she worked her jaw back and forth, contemplating something in her head. She looked tired, and Clarke felt an instant wave of guilt for having woken her up, but it was instantly replaced with a surge of butterflies as Lexa slid her hand over to rest on Clarke’s knee.

“Talk to me, Clarke,” she whispered, though it sounded more like a prayer than anything, as if she was pleading for the girl to open up to her so that they could share their burdens and share their pain.

“I just miss him,” Clarke admitted. “And then I close my eyes and see him, and for a moment it’s like he is there, but then I wake up and he’s still gone.”

“Death is not the end, Clarke,” Lexa replied, her voice so quiet that Clarke had to strain to hear it. “He still lives on in you,” she said. “In here.” Lexa brought her hand up to the space above Clarke’s heart, just as her father had done in her dream and it had tears plucking at her eyes before she could stop them.

Clarke moved her hand up to take Lexa’s in her own, clutching it as if the Commander was the only thing keeping her grounded. “I just want to feel closer to him,” she whispered, feeling entirely too vulnerable in that moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

She was amazed at how easily she found herself opening up to Lexa. She didn’t need the relief or the understanding that came with sharing herself with another person, she could survive on her own as she had been since she landed on the ground, but she wanted it. She wanted Lexa.

Lexa’s eyes shifted away from Clarke’s for a moment and her mouth opened, then quickly closed as if she was biting back the words she wanted to say. It only took a reassuring squeeze of Clarke’s hand to have her speaking without second thought, “When I want to feel closer to Costia, I play the piano,” Lexa admitted, eyes drifting back and forth from the piano in the corner to Clarke right beside her. “What will make you feel closer to your father, Clarke?” she asked.

Clarke knew the answer and found herself replying without hesitation. “Drawing. Painting. Art makes me feel closer to him,” she said. Jake Griffin had been the one to give Clarke her first sketchpad, like he had in her dream, and drawing had always been their thing.

“Then I will provide you with all the paper and canvas that you may need, Clarke,” Lexa answered simply. Clarke had a feeling that even if she asked for the moon, Lexa would be the one to get it for her.

Clarke wasn’t one to accept gifts normally, but this was an offer that she could not bring herself to refuse. She longed to create, itching to put paint to canvas or pencil to paper the same way that her lungs needed to breathe. “I would like that,” she said, letting her eyes fall back to the piano in the corner of the room.

Lexa caught where her gaze had wandered to and she sighed. “It’s been so long…” she said, letting her voce trail off.

“What was she like?” Clarke found herself asking before she could muzzle her question. It had been one for which she’d wanted an answer for a long time.

Lexa’s emerald eyes met Clarke’s and she saw a sadness in them that she had never seen before, but there was also immeasurable love there and she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe a bit of that love was reserved solely for her. “Costia was everything that I am not,” Lexa answered, and Clarke thought that was impossible because she knew Lexa to be everything, every emotion, every feeling, all at once.

“She was wild and mischievous, and she was always getting us into some sort of trouble. Where I was disciplined and methodic, she was spontaneous and carefree, and she was never one to be tamed. She always spoke what was on her mind, and even with all of that, she was wise beyond her years. Far wiser than I,” Lexa smiled at the memories that Clarke knew were playing in her mind, her eyes far away as if focusing on a distant time. 

Clarke felt a pang of jealousy in her chest and scolded herself for being so foolish. The dead were gone; she knew that better than anyone. “Sounds like she balanced you out perfectly,” Clarke said, secretly hoping that she somehow did the same.

“She did,” Lexa agreed. “She was a lot like you, Clarke. Headstrong and stubborn and she would have done anything for the people she loved. She loved to create too, though her love was for music rather than art. I think she was able to play every instrument she ever touched, and if she couldn’t, she would practice until she mastered it. She was beautiful like you too,” Lexa admitted, her eyes shifting away from Clarke’s as if she had not meant to say that last part.

Clarke’s cheeks flushed red, though she did not attempt to hide her blush, but instead pressed further in to Lexa’s gaze, drawing her back in. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked.

“Of course I do, Clarke,” Lexa replied, leaving it at that simple statement of the truth.

Their gazes lingered on each other, friction hanging heavy in the air between them, so thick and tangible that they could almost see it. Lexa’s eyes shifted down to Clarke’s lips, and Clarke found herself repeating the action, staring at the plump pink lips that were only inches from her own. “Will you play something for me?” Clarke asked, feeling her nervous words fill the silence.

That caught Lexa off guard and she stiffened beneath Clarke’s touch as if shifting from soft and tender to hardened and on guard. Clarke brought her hand up to run soothingly down the length of the Commander’s arm and a moment later she relaxed again, letting her shoulders slump beneath a timid sigh. She nodded once, standing slowly and pulling Clarke gently up behind her before leading her over to the piano in the corner of the room.

Lexa pulled the bench out and sat down, tugging Clarke down beside her and positioning her hands over the tops of the keys. Her fingers dusted across them so tenderly that she might have been touching something sacred and ancient, and Clarke realized that this may very well be all that she had left of Costia. Lexa sucked in a deep breath, as if bracing herself for inevitable pain that she knew would come as she tried to control the trembling that had gripped her body.

A moment later, she began to play, nimble fingers moving over the keys and creating a haunting melody that slowly filled the night air. The tune started out slow and danced about the low end of the keys as if setting a foundation for the song to build upon. As the pace of the melody began to slowly climb, so did Lexa’s hands across the middle and upper octaves of the piano, creating a song that was both beautiful and sad at the same time.

Clarke found herself watching Lexa’s face as she played, unable to peel her gaze away. Her eyes were closed and as the tune shifted, so did her features, her brow furrowed in concentration and her gentle expressions darting between hard and soft. The song was an exact replica of the woman who played it; a plethora of contrasts and moments of tenderness mixed with moments of intensity, all coming together to form one beautiful masterpiece. She watched as a solemn tear escaped and trailed down Lexa’s cheek before dropping off her chin and on to the piano where her fingers played, lost beneath the sounds of the haunting melody.

Clarke was still staring at Lexa long after the song had ended and the night had fallen silent around them again. Lexa took another steadying breath and turned to meet Clarke’s gaze, green eyes swimming with tears and unspoken questions that longed to break free and fill the air between them. Their faces were just inches apart and their shoulders were pressed together as they leaned in to each other, and Clarke could feel the way that Lexa was still trembling against her. The night itself seemed to grow darker and more silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation for what they both knew would inevitably come next.

A single tear welled up and over, trailing its way down Lexa’s cheek and Clarke couldn’t stop herself from reaching up to swipe it away with her thumb. Lexa stiffened beneath her touch, but then almost instantly relaxed into it, nuzzling her face further into Clarke’s palm. She brought her hand up and let it close around Clarke’s wrist, holding her there as she shifted slightly closer. Clarke watched again as Lexa’s eyes shifted down to her lips and then back up again, their gazes lingering together in the same way that the moon melds with the earth at dawn.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her tone one of desperate need and longing.

Whatever she was about to say was lost as Clarke edged herself closer still, feeling the way Lexa’s hot breath came in quick puffs against her lips. There was barely a measure of space between them now, and they both waited, their heartbeats the only noise that filled the air. As if drawn together like two magnets, they both leaned in at the same time, closing the distance between them as their lips finally melted together.

The kiss started out slow and timid as they both let their insecurities dissolve away between them. Lexa’s lips were soft against Clarke’s, and her taste was intoxicating as Clarke wrapped a hand in the base of her hair and pulled her in closer. Lexa’s hands found Clarke’s waist and they tangled themselves in the material of her shirt there, urging her closer still as if trying to press their two bodies into one. The moment burned hot and they clung desperately to each other, and Clarke knew that if she opened her eyes, the entire world might be alight with flames.

A gentle moan rumbled up from Lexa’s throat and hummed against Clarke’s lips as she deepened the kiss, longing for more. Clarke let her tongue slip from her mouth and trail along Lexa’s bottom lip, hungrily accepting when Lexa’s mouth parted and granted her entry. Their tongues swam together as they pressed against each other, trying to commit taste to memory and thirsting for more. When their lips finally parted, they were both breathing heavily and gasping for air in the tiny space that lingered between them.

Lexa smiled and Clarke covered it with another gentle kiss, wanting to taste that too. “Was that okay?” Lexa asked, fearful of a line that may have been crossed, recalling the first kiss they had ever shared and how Clarke had pulled away.

“Yes,” Clarke replied without hesitation. “I wasn’t ready before, but I am now. I want this, Alexandria.”

Lexa's breath caught at the use of her full name and she closed the gap between them once more, devouring Clarke’s waiting kiss-swollen lips with her own, tasting desire with a light flick of her tongue. Clarke opened her mouth to deepen the kiss again and felt herself shifting into Lexa’s lap, letting her legs straddle the Commander’s waist. The movement seemed to spark a new fire between them that had Lexa’s hands digging through Clarke’s hair at the base of her neck, pulling her in for more.

“Bed,” Clarke gasped, breaking the kiss for just long enough to get the word out before sinking her mouth into Lexa’s again.

Lexa nodded against her lips, letting her hands slide down to cup Clarke’s thighs, just below her butt. In one swift motion, they were up off the piano bench, and Lexa was carrying Clarke over to the bed, Clarke’s legs wrapped firmly around the Commander’s waist like a vice. The movement was effortless and Clarke was amazed at Lexa’s strength and grace as she gently lowered her to her back on the waiting bed while her lips hungrily moved down Clarke’s neck.

They paused for a moment as Lexa stood above Clarke, drinking in the sight of her disheveled blonde hair, her plump swollen lips and the way her blue eyes raked over the woman in front of her as if undressing her with her gaze alone. Lexa wore an expression that Clarke had never seen before, her brow furrowed and her perfect jaw set beneath a flush of red cheeks, though it was the look of utter desperation and desire in the green of her eyes that sent a surge of heat through Clarke’s entire body, resonating between her legs. She wanted this girl.

The moment of respite was brief and fleeting as Clarke reached up and grabbed hold of Lexa’s shirt, pulling her down on top of her by the collar. Lexa was over her in an instant, scooping her up beneath her thighs again and pulling Clarke to the top of the bed so that her head rested on the many pillows there. Then they were kissing again, their mouths finding each other as naturally as if they had repeated the action a thousand times before.

Clarke let her tongue slide out over Lexa’s bottom lip before sucking it gently into her mouth and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to draw a throaty moan from Lexa’s mouth. Clarke felt her body trembling with desire as Lexa’s kisses moved from her lips, to her jaw, down her neck and across her collar bone, leaving a dancing trail of sparks behind on Clarke’s skin. It was as if every touch and every breath against her flesh was electric, and she could feel it pulsing between them where their bodies met.

Clarke reached up and slipped her hands beneath Lexa’s shirt, and she felt the way the Commander tensed beneath her touch and shivered as Clarke’s fingers skittered across her back. “Breathe,” Clarke whispered, breaking their kiss once more.

Lexa drew back for just a moment and let their gazes melt together, their faces still just centimeters apart. She stared into Clarke’s eyes, searching for something, and she found her answer within Clarke’s smile a second later as she covered it with her mouth again. Clarke reacted automatically, shifting beneath Lexa so that she could again wrap her legs up around the Commander’s waist before slipping her hands beneath the hem of Lexa’s shirt and gently lifting it off.

The sight that greeted her was one that had her heart skipping a beat in her chest and her head dizzying as if drunk on contact alone. Lexa’s body was magnificent; her arms and shoulders were toned and her abs were prominent beneath smooth sun-kissed skin, sweat glistened over her muscles and dripped down into the space between firm breasts. She was tattooed in places that Clarke had never seen before, across her rib cage, over her bicep, down her hip and disappearing where the line of her shorts started. There were also deep and rigid scars peppering her body, forged in the crucible of battle, and Clarke found even those to be beautiful as she lifted her thumb to skip over one just below Lexa’s collar bone.

“Clarke, wait,” Lexa gasped against her lips.

It was so quiet that Clarke thought she may have imagined it, but she stopped immediately nonetheless. “What?” she asked, bringing her hands up to frame Lexa’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Lexa smiled at Clarke’s sudden concern and leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips. “Let’s just take this slow,” she whispered, glancing away to hide the blush in her cheeks. “I don’t want to push anything tonight.”

Clarke felt that familiar rush of warmth and leaned up to catch Lexa’s lips in her own, but the kiss was gentle now and not as desperate. The concern she had seen in Lexa’s eyes was enough to make her heart melt, and she had caught the unspoken words hidden behind them. She didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t want to take this too quickly. Clarke could respect that, and she felt a grin tugging at her cheeks as she leaned back into the pillows to relax, pulling Lexa down beside her.

She enjoyed the warmth of Lexa’s bare flesh against her body and she was glad when the Commander didn’t move to fetch her shirt. Instead, she settled in, pulling the blankets over them and draping her legs across Clarke’s. Lexa sat up on her right elbow, leaning over Clarke and tracing the line of her jaw with her thumb. Clarke’s hands slid over Lexa’s bare waist and across her back, letting her fingers run soothingly over the rigid scars that she found and swearing to herself that they made her even more beautiful.

The fire that had been burning between them died down to a blazing smolder, though it was no less hot, and they continued to press gentle kisses to each other’s lips. Clarke wanted to ask about the scars and hear the stories behind each and every tattoo, but in that moment, she was content to just lay back and let Lexa lean into their kisses long through the night. It wasn’t long before the passionate tangle of lips turned to a sleepy muddling of nose kisses as Lexa’s head dropped to the pillow beside Clarke and her eyes began to droop.

“Clarke,” she whispered, voice laced with sleep as she brought her hand up to Clarke’s warm cheek, pressing their chests closer together still. “I have to tell you something.”

Clarke heard the desperation in her voice, though sleep was already clouding her mind and she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. Instead, she wrapped her hands around Lexa’s waist and placed a gentle fleeting kiss on her soft lips. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, letting their foreheads press together.

Whatever response Lexa had was lost as blissful, peaceful oblivion claimed both of them.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The threads of consciousness pulled at Clarke’s mind and she felt herself reaching out into the space beside her, finding the bed cold to her touch. She cracked an eye open and squinted at the sunlight filtering into the room through the balcony door as she searched the room for Lexa. Her heart sank when she found that she was alone, and she sat up slowly, panic settling in at the thought that maybe the night before was just a dream. But it had felt so real, and she remembered the way Lexa’s lips tasted against hers and how her tongue swam desperately through her mouth, and the feeling of Lexa’s scars beneath her fingers. It had to have been real.

Clarke climbed out of bed and trudged her way over to the bathroom, leaning over a water basin to splash the cool liquid over her face. She glanced up into the mirror and found her hair wild and fraying out in matted tangles, her blue eyes were blood shot, and there was a distinct red mark on her neck, just above her clavicle. Normally the sight of a hickey would have her flushed with embarrassment, but this one provided her with a sense of relief and she found herself smiling like a fool at her own reflection. All of it had actually happened.

She heard the sound of the door opening and her heart picked up in her chest, fluttering in a way that only the thought of Lexa brought on. Clarke quickly ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it down and then stepped out of the bathroom to greet the Commander, but to her dismay it was the servant girl that had brought her the bucket of coals on her first day in Polis that had entered the room. The girl stared at her wide-eyed as she took in Clarke’s disheveled look, hair messy, tired eyes and wearing nothing but shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt.

“ _Heda Kom Skaikru_ , forgive me,” she said, letting her gaze shift away as her cheeks blushed the same shade as her unruly red hair.

Clarke felt her smile fall from her face, and she tried to hide the disappointment she knew was evident on her features. “It’s alright,” she said quickly. She noticed that the girl was carrying a tray of food and she wondered whom it was for considering Lexa was nowhere to be found.

“Heda asked me to bring in food and drink,” the girl said, following Clarke’s gaze to the feast in her hands. “I figured it was for her to eat after her council meeting. Had I known you were here, I would have knocked,” she explained, this time shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Clarke replied, noticing how uncomfortable the girl was and going to the bed to wrap a blanket around her shoulders in an attempt to cover more of her body. “I didn’t get your name the first time we met.”

The girl smiled at that, slightly relaxing once Clarke had made herself decent. “My name is Alina,” the girl replied.

“It is good to meet you, Alina. You can call me Clarke, please,” she replied. _Heda Kom Skaikru_ was what the Grounders knew her as formally, and it was better than _Wanheda_ or Mountain Slayer, however, it still made Clarke slightly uncomfortable. “Is the Commander in council right now?” she asked.

Alina nodded. “They’ve been in there for a few hours now. I am not sure when they will be done.”

“Well I suppose I’ll just wait here then,” Clarke mused, trying not to pout over not getting to spend the morning with Lexa. Though she wasn’t sure how much of the morning was actually left because when she glanced out the balcony window, the sun was high in the sky and she figured that it was closer to midday.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Clarke?” Alina asked, a genuine smile on her pale white features.

It was natural instinct for Clarke to say no, never having had anyone to dote on her before, but she was dying for a bath and wasn’t quite sure if she should light a fire in the fireplace and take coals from there or if there were specific coals that they used to warm the water. “If you wouldn’t mind helping me draw a bath, I would be grateful,” Clarke answered bashfully. 

Alina nodded, setting the tray of food down on Lexa’s dining table and moving to the door without hesitation. “I will be right back,” she called over her shoulder, and disappeared out into the hallway.

Clarke waited patiently, letting her eyes wander over to the piano in the corner and smiling at the memory they had made there the night before. She hoped that when Lexa looked at it now, she would think not just of Costia, but of Clarke and how they had finally let their desires win out in the flickering light of a few candles and the long silence after a beautiful, haunting melody. 

A moment later, the door opened again and Alina returned carrying a bucket of smoldering coals. Clarke followed her into the bathroom and watched as she emptied the contents of the bucket into a tray beneath the tub of water and then kneeled to blow on the embers, bringing them back to life in bursts of glowing red and orange. 

“Thank you,” Clarke said, reaching down and pulling the girl to her feet. 

The servant looked surprised at the action and the smile on her features grew wide again. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Clarke?” she asked.

“No,” Clarke replied quickly, feeling the sudden urge to sink into the warm water up to her ears. “Thank you, Alina.”

The girl nodded and headed towards the door, stopping just as her hand closed around the handle. “Should you need anything, I will be in the hallway, Clarke,” she called over her shoulder, and then slipped out of the room leaving Clarke alone with her thoughts again.

She waited a few moments, testing the water every few minutes as the temperature slowly climbed to where she wanted it to be. When steam was rolling off the water, she shed her clothes, letting her undergarments fall to the floor as she stood naked in the middle of Lexa’s bathroom. It reminded her of the last time she had felt this exposed in Lexa’s tent in TonDC, and the way her reflection had looked in the mirror.

She had been caked in grime and dirt, her skin nearly black save for the spots that her sweat had peeled the filth away. Her hair had been matted and tangled with blood and dirt and she had lost a few pounds from having starved herself in the forest for days. Blisters coated her feet and shallow cuts had laced themselves over her body from where the underbrush had reached out and snagged at her skin and clothes and her neck had been a deep shade of purple and black where the Ice Nation warrior attempted to wring her life from her body.

Now when Clarke looked in the mirror, she saw an entirely different person. Her skin had healed and was a healthy shade of tan, thin white lines left behind where cuts had been before. Her hair was just as messy, but this time it was with sleep and intimacy rather than with dirt and twigs. She had gained back the weight she’d lost and she looked healthy, and more than that, she looked happy, a faint smile still lingering in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were the same deep shade of blue they had always been, but somewhere in them the sadness she had seen before gave way to contentment. Polis was healing her. Lexa was healing her.

She turned away from her reflection and stepped into the tub, letting her body adjust to the warmth of the water before sinking down so that she was immersed up to her shoulders. Instantly, she felt relaxed as her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed a deep sigh, sinking in further. The only thing that would have made the moment more perfect is if Lexa had been in the tub with her, and she let herself imagine the way it would have felt to lean back against Lexa’s bare chest.

The thought sent shivers down her spine and Clarke felt warmth spread between her legs, pulling her eyes open in surprise. Suddenly the heat was almost too unbearable, and she had to cross her legs, squirming beneath the increasingly heated images that flashed through her mind. She stood up, letting the cool air sweep over her body and reached for the bar of soap on the edge of the tub, needing something in her hands to keep them from wandering the length of her body.

Once she felt clean enough, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a nearby towel, patting the dampness from her skin. She moved to Lexa’s closet and selected an outfit that she thought would fit her, no longer having any reservations about wearing the Commander’s clothes. She dressed herself, pulling on skintight charcoal colored pants and a black long-sleeved shirt that twisted in lengths of material across her breasts. Just as she was lacing up her knee length boots, she heard the door open again and her heart did a little flip in her chest.

“Lex?” she called, tying the last knot on her boot. 

Clarke stood and rushed out of the bathroom, excitement freezing in her bones at the sight of the person who had entered the room. Titus stood by the door, his eyes grazing over her as she stopped in her tracks, lingering on the red mark at her throat before skipping over to the tousled bed sheets. An expression settled across his face that looked like a mix between fury and disappointment before his dark eyes found Clarke again.

“Titus,” she said, the name sending a cold shiver down her spine and it was a stark contrast to the one she’d felt only moments ago in the tub. “What are you doing in here?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I could ask you the same question,” he replied. "Though I think I already know the answer.”

She cleared her throat and let her fingers run through her hair, shifting it over her shoulder to cover the mark on her throat. “Where’s Lexa?” she asked, feeling uncomfortable in a room alone with this man.

“I came here to have a word in private after the council meeting let out, though I see she had somewhere else to be,” he replied, still lingering close to the doorway though not moving to leave.

“Oh,” Clarke answered, unsure what else to say. She wished that whatever Lexa was doing, she would make it fast.

Titus shifted further into the room and Clarke felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in protest. The man had never been violent towards her, but something about his presence set her on edge. “I believe we got off on the wrong foot, Clarke,” he said, plopping himself down onto the couch and motioning for her to join him. “Please, allow me to explain.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, or if she even wanted to, but she found herself moving towards the couch and choosing a chair across from him. “Look, Titus—

She began, but he held up a hand quickly cutting her off. “I know that you care for Alexandria,” he said and to her surprise his features softened. “And I can see the way she cares for you too.”

Clarke looked this man over again, eyeing the way his shoulders slumped and his jaw clenched, and she could tell that he held genuine concern for Lexa. He cared for her too. “Lexa is special,” Clarke said.

Titus nodded. “I have served four Commanders as _Fleimkepa_ , none of them half as wise or strong as _Leksa Kom Trikru_ ,” he admitted, pride brimming in his voice. “The truth is, she was all these things even before ascension.”

“Lexa has a vision,” Clarke replied. “She wants her legacy to be a lasting peace.”

Again, the older man nodded. “Her legacy will mean nothing if she’s dead,” he said, his features hardening again. 

Clarke felt panic surge through her as fear gripped her heart and squeezed, drawing the breath from her lungs. “What do you mean?” she felt herself asking, though she feared the answer.

“I meant it when I said that your presence here puts her in danger, Clarke,” he answered. “If the ambassadors feel her judgment is clouded by your influence, they will challenge her. Even now, some seek to overthrow her.”

“Why?” Clarke questioned, feeling anger rise in her voice. “A peace treaty has been signed, what more do they want?”

“Lexa moves to protect your people, even as they strike against our own,” he scoffed, spitting the words out as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.

Again, panic shot through Clarke’s bones and she felt herself rising out of her chair. “My people? What do you mean?” she asked. “Lexa said Camp Jaha was safe.”

“It is not Camp Jaha to which I refer,” Titus replied, rising to meet her. “A piece of your Ark,” he spat, “Landed in Ice Nation territory. _Azgeda_ claims that _Skaikru_ attacked them.”

“What?” Clarke yelled, whirling around at the sound of the door opening behind them.

Lexa entered the room carrying what looked like a sketchpad and a few pencils, but she dropped them at the sight of Titus standing across from Clarke. She was wearing her typical council attire, skintight black pants, knee high boots, a ribbed metal waist guarder and a black shirt tucked in. Her fur lined jacked flowed behind her, long in the back and short in the front, and the smile she had on her face as she entered fell immediately. Her green eyes went wide as Clarke stormed towards her, stopping only inches away.

“You knew part of the Ark landed in Ice Nation territory, and you didn’t tell me?” Clarke asked, praying that it wasn’t true and trying desperately to keep the tears from her eyes.

Lexa glanced between Clarke and Titus, an impassive expression settling over her features as her shoulders went rigid. “Clarke—

She began but was quickly cut off. “Did you know?” Clarke asked, realizing that Lexa was in full Commander mode right now and she would not get the answers she needed.

“Yes,” Lexa replied, her green eyes giving nothing away.

Clarke felt anger surge through her as a single tear escaped her cheek, and she pushed past Lexa, fleeing down the hallway. She didn’t know where she was going or what she aimed to do, only that she had to get away from there. She couldn’t let herself think rationally right now, not while her people were dying at the hands of Ice Nation warriors, and she found the sting of betrayal settling over her heart again. It felt awfully familiar to the night that Lexa had left her at Mount Weather.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke’s feet carried her through the streets of Polis with no particular destination in mind. She felt the tears stinging her eyes and soaking her cheeks as they fell, but she did not bring her hand up to wipe them away. She wanted to feel them, wanted to feel the anger coursing in her blood and the burn of betrayal in her veins. She wanted to be reminded of the pain that Lexa would always choose her own people over Clarke’s, no matter the intimacy they shared.

She wondered how long Lexa had known. How long had she been keeping this secret and doing nothing about it? She figured the news had come the morning prior when Aden had pulled Lexa from the rooftop of the Polis tower with an urgent matter. She found herself wondering if that was what Lexa had wished to tell her the night before when they laid tangled in each other’s arms. She wondered if there was a plausible explanation for it all, and if she had been over reacting.

For a moment, Clarke thought about turning around and running back into the tower, back into Lexa’s arms to let her explain, but she pushed the thought aside and let her anger win out. A few people approached her as she trudged through the streets, though her presence alone didn’t draw nearly as much attention as when she moved alongside Lexa. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, hiding her blonde hair and obscuring her features so that she could move freely and without notice.

She didn’t know where she was headed and was surprised when she found herself ascending a familiar trail up the side of a steep hill. She wasn’t sure what had carried her out to the novitiate training ground, but perhaps she just felt the need to hit something. At the top, she heard the clash of metal against metal, and she knew she would find who she was subconsciously looking for.

The novitiates were spread out around the training ring, locked in battle beneath the watchful eyes of the dozens of sentries that patrolled for their safety. Aden was battling the two novitiates that she had seen him duel the day before, his sword deflecting their blows as if they were nothing more than a nuisance. He looked bored, but his eyes were focused and his brow was furrowed in concentration, and he looked so much like Lexa that it made Clarke’s heart ache. 

Aden smiled when he caught sight of her, though his grin faltered when he noticed the state she was in and he held up his hand for the other novitiates to cease their advances. He jogged over to Clarke, an expression of worry written on his young features and she couldn’t help the wave of affection that surged through her at the sight of the boy. He wore his long black training coat and tight black pants that melted into knee length boots, and his sandy blonde hair was matted down to his forehead with sweat.

His blue eyes found hers when they were just feet apart. “Clarke?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

Clarke felt tears pull at her eyes again and she sucked in a deep breath before they could fall. “I guess I just needed some air,” she croaked, sputtering her words out behind a sob.

“What did Lexa do?” he asked, though the question was more to himself and she heard the protectiveness in his voice, wondering if the worry there was meant for her or his mentor. Maybe both.

“Nothing,” Clarke replied, not wanting to reveal anything without first hearing an explanation from the Commander. “I just need to let out some frustration,” Clarke said, motioning to the blunted sword in his hand.

Aden eyed her with speculation, but let the subject drop, not wanting to push her if she was not ready to speak. Instead, he flipped the sword over so that he was grabbing the blade and thrust the handle in her direction. “Go as hard as you need,” he said, pulling a second blade from a sheath at his back.

Clarke smiled gratefully and squared her stance so that she was positioned to attack in front of the boy. She moved to strike, bringing the blade down in long arcs as hard as she could, not even minding the fact that Aden deflected them away easily. She knew her form was sloppy and slow, but she didn’t care. All she cared about in that moment was how good it felt to be letting her anger flow from her body. 

With each blow, she felt a little lighter, as if she was shedding the weight of hurt and betrayal that had settled on her shoulders and aimed to strangle the life from her chest. Clarke threw strikes in his direction, each harmlessly glancing off, until her lungs burned and her muscles screamed in protest. She hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming from her eyes until her cheeks burned against the cold whipping wind that gusted heavily atop the hill. 

When the last of her energy left her, she let the sword fall from her grasp and doubled over, placing her hands just above her knees as she gasped for breath. Aden was by her side in an instant, running soothing hands over her back and whispering soft words of comfort. She knew that the other novitiates and the guards were watching, and she wasn’t surprised when Aden barked an order at them in Trigedasleng and the sounds of training picked up around them again.

After a moment, she stood, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Aden glanced down at her, his expression soft and worry written in his kind blue eyes. “Do you feel better, Clarke?” he asked.

She nodded, letting a half-hearted laugh escape. “I’m sorry,” she said, offering no further explanation. She didn’t know what to say or how to explain the hurt that she was feeling. She didn’t even know the entire truth of what had happened and she felt the familiar tinge of guilt grip her, realizing that she should have given Lexa a chance to explain.

“Whatever it is, I am sure that Lexa has the people’s best interests in mind,” Aden replied, sounding so sure of his mentor that Clarke couldn’t help but believe him.

“Yes, her people,” she scoffed. The image of part of the Ark being trapped in enemy territory, snowed in and surrounded by an army of Grounders had her heart freezing over in her chest.

“Clarke,” Aden said, bringing her back from the brink. “ _You_ are her people.”

The words caught her off guard, but as soon as they were out, she knew that they were true. Somewhere over the last few weeks, beneath moonlit waterfalls and breathtaking sunrises, wrapped in the warmth of her arms and in the dim light of a single flickering candle, Clarke had become Lexa’s. And Lexa had become Clarke’s. She knew that the Commander would always put her duty to her people first, but now, Clarke _was_ her people.

Realization dawned on her and she felt embarrassment bubble up in her cheeks at having needed a thirteen-year-old boy to show her the truth, but once she saw it, it was blinding. Her eyes went wide and suddenly she was moving away from Aden, nearly sprinting by the time she reached the edge of the clearing. She needed to hear the truth from Lexa. She owed her that much.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke found herself standing in front of Lexa’s door, unsure whether she should knock or just enter. Her exit earlier had been abrupt and uncalled for and she felt her hand sliding up to do the former before she could stop herself. Her knuckles rapped twice on the door, and it quickly swung open somewhere between the second and third knock as if Lexa had been waiting eagerly on the other side.

The Commander looked disheveled, her eyes brimmed red as if she’d been crying and Clarke caught the relief that flashed through them as she opened the door. “Clarke,” she gasped, holding back the urge to pull her into her arms. Instead, she moved aside to let Clarke into the room, closing the door silently behind them.

Clarke whirled around on her as soon as the door was shut, though she kept a few feet of space between them. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted earlier,” she said, not knowing where else to begin.

Lexa eyed her curiously, though her tone was soft when she spoke. “You do not need to apologize, Clarke,” she replied. Lexa would never be one to chastise her for her actions.

“I should have let you explain…” she said, letting her words trail off. 

Clarke felt awkward standing in the doorway, and the space between them felt like a canyon, pushing them further and further apart. It made her uncomfortable, and the thought of being so far away from Lexa set her nerves on edge. She moved further into the room and stood in front of the balcony window to take in the view of the city lights flickering in the dark of night and hoping that Lexa would follow.

“I wanted to tell you, Clarke,” Lexa admitted, her voice came from behind Clarke, but she knew that she had moved nearer. “I was going to tell you last night.”

“Well, tell me now,” Clarke answered, again turning to meet Lexa’s gaze. The Commander still kept her distance, but she was closer than she had been before.

Lexa nodded, sucking in a breath as she tried to find the right words. “Riders arrived yesterday with word that part of your space station had landed in Ice Nation territory when the rest of the Ark came down,” she began, the technological words sounding foreign on her lips. “In council, the _Azgeda_ delegate claimed that _Skaikru _had attacked them. In their own territory.”__

__“Why wouldn’t you tell me this sooner?” Clarke asked, feeling fear grip her insides, twisting her stomach in a thick knot. The part of the Ark stuck in Ice Nation lands had to be Farm Station..._ _

__“Because I was unsure how to proceed, Clarke. Ice Nation seeks to overthrow me, and they knew that I would move to defend your people in front of the council. If I ordered the Ice Nation army to stand down, it would look like I was choosing the lives of your people over the lives of my own. If I allowed the Ice Nation army to proceed, your people on that station would be wiped out,” she explained, her shoulders slumping in defeat._ _

__Clarke felt her heart sink. She knew that Lexa’s life hung in the balance with every action and every decision that she made. She knew that one wrong move could lead to her death. “You should have told me,” she whispered. “I can help you, Lexa. You don’t have to make every decision on your own.”_ _

__“I do when it comes to my people, Clarke,” Lexa replied. “If the delegates think that you have swayed my decisions in any way, they will not hesitate to depose me. Or worse.”_ _

__Clarke knew her words were true, and despite her steely exterior, she could see the fear in Lexa’s eyes. “So what will you do?” she asked. “Are you going to just let my people die?”_ _

__“Of course not, Clarke,” Lexa answered without hesitation. “ _Azgeda_ is part of the Coalition. As ruthless as they may be, they still must adhere to the word of their Commander.”_ _

__Clarke knew her confusion was evident on her face when she asked, “What did you do?”_ _

__“I ordered their army to stand down until I get there and can judge the situation. I leave in the morning,” Lexa replied. Her voice was strong, but her shoulders slumped slightly and Clarke could read the worry behind her words._ _

__She felt herself moving to close the distance between them without a second thought, reaching up and framing Lexa’s face with her hands. “Lexa, you’re risking everything by doing this,” she whispered. “You’re risking your life.”_ _

__The Commander softened beneath her touch, sinking further into her desperate grasp. “I know what I risk, Clarke,” she said, their eyes finding each other._ _

__“I can’t let you do this,” Clarke answered, knowing that had she not come to Polis, Lexa would not have made this decision._ _

__“It is already done. _Skaikru_ is a part of the peace treaty that I put in place. Your people would not be pleased if they found out that part of the Ark had landed in enemy territory and they had not been granted safe passage. I told the council these would be grounds for retaliation should your people ever choose to use the technology in Mount Weather,” she explained. “ _Azgeda_ agreed to stand down until I arrive.”_ _

__Clarke took in the Commander before her, green eyes blazing with determination and resolve, and she knew that Lexa would do all that she could to ensure the safety of what remained of her people. She didn’t owe it to her and she didn’t have to, but she would, if not for the safety of her own people then for Clarke. She knew that part of Lexa believed that _Skaikru_ would use the technology in Mount Weather against them, but she also knew that Lexa cared enough about her to ensure that she would at least try to save them._ _

__“Let me come with you,” Clarke whispered, edging close enough to let her forehead rest against Lexa’s._ _

__Lexa’s hands came up to close around Clarke’s wrists where her hands still cupped her cheeks. “No,” she replied, her tone not to be questioned. “Ice Nation took Costia from me. I will not risk you too by allowing you to follow me into their territory. It is too dangerous, Clarke,” she said._ _

__Clarke’s heart broke at the utter terror that gripped Lexa’s voice and the tears that pooled behind her eyes. She felt the uncontrollable need to comfort her, to pull her in and assure that she was safe and well and that all would be fine, but she knew that those were promises she could not keep. Instead she tugged Lexa closer, letting their lips meet in a kiss that said everything her words could not. When they parted, their cheeks were wet with muddled tears, and neither of them was sure whom they belonged to._ _

__“I can’t let you go alone,” Clarke whispered. “If anything happened to you because you were trying to protect my people I wouldn’t—_ _

__“Stop,” Lexa cut her off, covering her words with another kiss. “I will not be alone, Clarke. My guard will travel with me. Indra too.”_ _

__Clarke shook her head, not exactly relieved at the thought of a small group of warriors heading into enemy territory that housed the largest army of all the clans. “What if _Azgeda_ moves against you while you’re there?” she asked._ _

__“Nia does not have enough support to move against me yet,” Lexa assured her. “The council still fears the technology in Mount Weather more than the spears of _Azgeda_. They believe peace with _Skaikru_ is the best option right now, though it could change at any moment.”_ _

__“Lexa, I just need you to be safe,” Clarke admitted, letting her thumb trace the Commander’s jawline back and forth. “I need you.”_ _

__“You have me, Clarke,” she replied, soothingly. “I’m right here.”_ _

__Clarke felt her chest flutter as she leaned in to close the space between them again. The kiss was soft, and delicate as if they were both afraid the moment would shatter if they pushed to hard. Clarke felt her hands trembling against Lexa’s skin, and the Commander pulled her closer, willing her to draw strength from the warmth of her touch. In a world where nothing in their future was certain, one thing was certain in that moment: they were right where they were supposed to be. In each other’s arms._ _

__They pulled apart and Lexa’s hands fell to Clarke’s waist. “I wasn’t sure if you would come back earlier,” she whispered. “Where did you go?”_ _

__Clarke felt her cheeks flush with the tinge of blood just below the surface of her skin. “To the training ground,” she admitted. “Aden had to talk some sense into me.”_ _

__“Do you often take advice from a thirteen-year-old, Clarke?” Lexa asked, green eyes alight with humor._ _

__“Only when he’s smarter than me,” she admitted, though she would not reveal the contents of her conversation with Aden._ _

__“Hmm,” Lexa hummed against Clarke’s lips. “He must have had a good teacher.”_ _

__Clarke kissed her, letting her words disappear along with the space between them. “He must have,” she agreed._ _

__Lexa pulled away, letting her hand find Clarke’s. “I have something for you,” she said, leading Clarke over to the bed._ _

__Clarke leaned back against the bedpost as Lexa moved over towards the nightstand, ruffling through the drawers. She produced the sketchpad Clarke had seen in her hand before she had stormed out of the room, and Clarke felt a wave of relief that she hadn’t imagined it. Lexa handed it to her, along with a few different sized charcoal pencils, the bodies hand-carved with ornate designs. They were beautiful, art in themselves, and Clarke wondered where she had gotten them but decided to let it remain a mystery._ _

__“To help you feel closer to your dad,” Lexa said, handing the materials over._ _

__“Lexa,” Clarke gasped. “These are beautiful.” The gesture brought tears to Clarke’s eyes and they were falling before she could stop them._ _

__Lexa closed the space between them and gently reached up to thumb the tears from Clarke’s cheeks. “Now you can hold him close each time you create something new,” she whispered._ _

__Clarke could not find the words to express her gratitude or how much the gift meant to her, so she placed the sketchpad on the bed and threw her arms around Lexa’s neck. Her mouth found the Commander’s before Lexa had a chance to get a word in, devouring her lips in a desperate, hungry, kiss. Her mouth parted against Clarke’s tongue, granting her immediate entry as the kiss deepened. Clarke turned, pushing Lexa back onto the bed and climbing on top of her as their lips met again in a passionate dance of heat and desire._ _

__They held each other long into the night, breathing life against each other’s lips as if they had never known what it felt like to truly live before that moment. Their bodies melded together into one, the only thing separating them was the thin layer of clothes that clung to their damp sweat-soaked bodies. Clarke hung on to Lexa as if every fiber of her being needed the contact in order to survive and flourish and thrive, all the while thinking there was no way in hell that she was going to let her go alone to Ice Nation._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...so there you have it! I've been wanting to write this chapter for a while, and I am so happy that I finally got to share it with you guys. As you can see, Clarke and Lexa finally gave in, and things between them are only going to heat up from here ;) We also got to see what Lexa was keeping from Clarke, which is the fact that Farm Station (and yes that means Pike) is trapped behind enemy lines in Azgeda. Stick with me through this, because the ride is only just getting started. See you guys next Friday!
> 
> P.S. You can find me on Twitter @LexAlexAU if you feel like having a chat, I'm always open to comments and suggestions no matter how big or small. I'm not planning on ending this any time soon.
> 
> -Alex


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for coming back for another update. This one is a bit early again as I have an insane day tomorrow and will not likely be able to post the update. This is another monster chapter in regards to plot development and a few new characters are finally making an appearance. The dynamic between Lexa and Clarke in this chapter is incredibly important as well and I really enjoyed writing the shifts between playful and caring to strong and commanding Lexa. Enjoy guys, see you at the end!
> 
> -Alex

Lexa was having a nightmare. Clarke was vaguely aware of that fact as the Commander tossed and turned beside her, crying out in short bursts of whimpering in her sleep. The tortured sounds had pulled Clarke from a vivid dream of her own and she opened her eyes, turning to gather Lexa in her arms. She remembered what happened the last time she’d woken Lexa from a nightmare and hoped that this time she would not end up on the wrong side of a knife though she held no real reservations. She knew that Lexa would never harm her.

It was dawn; the pale shades of morning light peaked through the balcony door and splashed a gentle yellow glow to the room that washed softly over the blank walls. Lexa’s face twisted as another faint cry escaped her lips and her cheeks were bright red beneath a furrowed brow. Clarke’s heart ached in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to erase the terrors that plagued her and leave her only with a lasting peace that could calm any measure of tumultuous storm.

Instead, she shifted closer, tangling her legs around Lexa’s and leaning over her to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Lex,” she whispered, her voice soft and raspy against the Commander’s ear. “Wake up, baby,” she tried again, shocked at how easily the pet name came to her. It was unexpected and it sent a sharp flutter through her body that she felt all the way in her toes, but it felt right nonetheless.

Lexa stirred and Clarke felt her hands come up around her waist as she braced herself for the possibility that she might again end up on her back, or even the floor. But Lexa’s hands were soft and urgent as they burrowed into the fabric of Clarke’s shirt, and she pulled her closer as if trying to cling to her. “Clarke?” she whispered, her voice laced with sleep and trembling behind a hint of fear.

“I’m here,” Clarke replied, pressing another kiss to her lips. “You’re dreaming.”

Lexa’s eyes popped open, emerald green and bright against the morning light, though bloodshot and looking as if she had only gotten an hour of sleep. She gazed up at Clarke and her features softened as she relaxed further into the safety of Clarke’s arms. “Am I still dreaming?” she asked as the corner of her mouth turned up in a sly smile.

Clarke giggled and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the line. “Are you always this smooth in the morning, Commander?” she asked, rolling to the side. She kept her legs knotted with Lexa’s and her chest pressed firmly to the Commander’s side, enjoying the warmth and comfort radiating off of her skin. She felt safe in Lexa’s arms and she would have been content to stay there all day.

“Only on mornings when I wake up beneath a beautiful woman, Clarke,” Lexa replied, her smile growing wider still. Whatever nightmare she’d been having was lost in the warmth radiating between them and the sound of Clarke’s laughter against her lips.

“I knew you were a bottom,” Clarke answered, laughing even harder at the tinge of red in Lexa’s cheeks.

“I am not!” Lexa countered, though her retort came a bit too quickly and her blush was just a little too bright for her argument to actually be believable.

Clarke planted a kiss to the corner of her mouth, tasting the grin on her lips. “Whatever you say,” she replied.

“Clarke,” Lexa laughed, turning to flip Clarke onto her back in one effortless motion. Lexa hovered over her, just a few inches lingered in the space between their lips and her breath trembled hot against Clarke’s mouth. “The Commander of the twelve clans is _not_ a bottom.”

Clarke leaned up and closed the space between them, deepening the kiss so quickly that it caught Lexa off guard. As her tongue swam through the Commander’s mouth and her hands tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, Clarke turned her over again, straddling her waist with her knees planted firmly on either side of her body. “The Commander may not be a bottom,” Clarke whispered. “But I think Lexa certainly is.”

Lexa made no attempt to resist or to turn her over again, though Clarke knew that she would be on her back in an instant if Lexa tried to reverse their positions. Instead, green eyes met her own and their gazes melded together, locked and lost in each other as if the entire world around them faded into nothing. Clarke watched as Lexa’s features shifted from tender to hardened, and then to something that looked very similar to defeat, and she knew what was about to come even before Lexa spoke.

“I should ready myself,” Lexa said, even as her hands slid up the length of Clarke’s thighs to rest firmly on her waist. “The ride to Ice Nation will take two days, and their army will not wait forever.”

Clarke felt her shoulders fall and she glanced away as she tried to hide the discomfort in her features. “I think I should be coming with you—

“No,” Lexa said, cutting her off before her argument even had a chance to blossom. “It’s too dangerous.”

“They are my people!” Clarke shot back, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “And I don’t need you to protect me!” Her tone was sharp and she was surprised at the force behind her words.

Lexa’s face did not falter and her voice was steady when she spoke. “You are not the only person I aim to protect, Clarke,” she replied.

“What do you mean?”

“If _Azgeda_ does plan to attack me while I am in their territory, how do you expect me to defend myself when all I will be thinking about is defending you?” Lexa retorted. “If they do not attack, how do you expect me to negotiate safe passage for your people without them believing that you have swayed my actions?” she continued on. “If you are there, how am I supposed to focus on my duty when all I will be able to focus on is you?”

The rhetorical questions hit Clarke square in the chest, sucking the breath from her lungs as half a dozen different truths dawned on her. The first of which was that Lexa was far more nervous about the journey to Ice Nation than she was letting on, and despite her steely exterior, she was expecting danger. The second truth was that Lexa would give her own life to ensure Clarke’s safety, and the thought both thrilled and terrified her at the same time. The third truth was simply and unequivocally that Lexa, the Commander of the Coalition, would always put her duty before her feelings…or would she? The lines were starting to blur, and Clarke was not sure what to believe anymore.

Clarke willed herself to breathe again after a moment of silence, letting out a deflated sigh as she rolled off of Lexa. “Lexa, either I come with you, by your side, or I find my own way there. I understand your fears, and believe me I’m scared too. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you…” she trailed off, letting the words echo between them. “But these are my people. And I have a duty to protect them, you know that better than anyone.”

“There is no way I will let you travel to _Azgeda_ on your own. You’ll freeze to death. And Nia still has a bounty on your head,” the Commander answered, her tone beginning to harden with worry.

“Then I guess you better just take me with you,” Clarke retorted. “Because I am not staying here and letting you fight my battles for me.”

Lexa stared at her a moment longer before letting her shoulders fall. “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met, Clarke,” she replied, sighing in defeat, pressing one last lingering kiss to Clarke’s lips before climbing out of bed.

She watched as Lexa stood, the picture of beauty and perfection in the soft glow of the morning sunlight. Her skin looked almost a golden color, the black edges of tattoos peeking out from beneath the fabric of the thin layers of clothing that adorned her slender figure. Her legs went on for miles, and as she raised her arms to stretch, her shirt lifted as well, revealing perfectly sculpted abs and sharp hip bones that dipped into the hem of her shorts. 

Her wild brown hair flowed down to the middle of her back, tangled and tossed with sleep, and her green eyes shifted to where Clarke was staring at her. She gave her a slight half-hearted grin, tainted with unease, and Clarke felt her heart kick up and dance to an erratic beat, pounding wildly in her chest. She wanted to reach out and take Lexa by the hand and drag her back into bed where they could stay safe and warm and wrapped up in each other. 

“So, is that a yes?” Clarke called, breaking out of her trance.

Lexa stopped, huddled in the doorway of the bathroom as her spine went rigid. Clarke could tell that she was waging a war internally, and she knew that she was the cause of it. “I fear that the hardest battle I will ever fight is between what I know, and what I feel, Clarke,” she answered.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke strode alongside Lexa through the streets of Polis in the warmth of the morning sun, enjoying the feel of it on her skin despite the cold fear that was creeping into her heart. Her thoughts shifted between worry for Lexa and complete terror for her people that had been stranded in enemy territory for far too long. Part of her wondered if they would even find her people alive when they got there. She knew that Lexa was just as scared, though the Commander would never show it, and her fears were reserved more for Clarke and her position than anything else.

She understood what Lexa had meant when she said that her hardest battle was between what she knows and what she feels; she understood because she felt the same way. Clarke _knew_ that she had a duty to her people and that it was her responsibility to ensure their safety, but she _felt_ , deep in her heart, that her presence put Lexa in grave danger. And it was the thought of Lexa in danger that had her nearly paralyzed in trepidation. Her feet seemed to move unconsciously beside the Commander as if they were tethered together by some invisible force, and even in plain view where all could see, she shifted closer and let her fingers brush over Lexa’s.

Lexa must have been harboring similar thoughts because as Clarke’s fingers brushed hers, she opened her hand to take Clarke’s in her own and gave it a gentle, desperate squeeze. She turned her gaze to meet Clarke’s, emerald green eyes glowing like neon behind a mask of thick black war paint that streaked down her prominent cheekbones. She was dressed for battle in black armor, her metal shoulder guard strapped securely to her chest as a blood-red cape flowed out behind her. There was a guarder strapped to her thigh that was ringed in six different daggers and her sword hung dauntingly at her side.

Clarke knew that the war paint and weapons were just precautionary measures, an image for the Commander to uphold, but at the same time she couldn’t hide the unnerving feeling that they would need to use them. She dressed for battle as well, clad in Grounder armor from boots to shoulders, though her gun weighed heavily at her waist and she was happy for the sense of comfort it provided. She never thought that she would be grateful for a weapon after Mount Weather, but the idea of marching into the depths of Ice Nation had quickly froze the notion in place.

Guards and sentries surrounded them as they made their way to the outskirts of the city, and Clarke could tell that many of the warriors would be accompanying them to _Azgeda_. She idly wondered if all of them would be making the return trip home, but quickly pushed the thought aside. She had faith in Lexa and her position as Heda, and despite the tensions that ran thick and heavy between clans, she knew that they respected her leadership. And even if Ice Nation and Nia did not respect Lexa, they still feared her and the retaliation of the Coalition should any attempt at her life be made.

Aden trudged at Lexa’s other side, intent on seeing his mentor off and Clarke could read the hesitation in his voice as he spoke to her. “I do not understand why I can’t come with you, Heda,” he complained, his tone steady.

“Because _Azgeda_ is no place for a novitiate,” Lexa replied and despite the nerves and tension in the air, there was amusement in her voice.

“Well it’s no place for Clarke either, and you’re letting her go,” he scoffed.

Lexa glared at him. “I’m not letting Clarke go anywhere. She gave me no choice.”

Clarke gave them each a sidelong glance trying not to feel offended. “Clarke is standing right here,” she quipped.

Lexa gave her an apologetic look and Clarke found herself wondering if she would have smiled if there were not so many people around to see. Instead she sighed and turned to her novitiate. “Aden, you need to stay here and train for your conclave should anything happen to me,” she said, sounding as if the conversation was one that they’d had many times before.

“But—

“Aden!” a strong voice came from behind them and Clarke felt a cold chill grip her spine. Titus emerged from the ranks of the guards that surrounded them, adorned in his traditional gray robes and wearing a permanent scowl on his hardened features. “The other novitiates are waiting for you. Say your goodbyes,” he commanded.

“Yes, _Fleimkepa_ ,” Aden replied, a slight edge to his tone but respectful nonetheless.

He turned to Lexa, his blonde hair sweeping over his eyes and Clarke watched their exchange curiously, wondering what hidden emotions would be revealed in the public space. The Commander’s face softened as Aden reached out and grasped her forearm in respect, though the shift in her expression was nearly invisible beneath her black mask of war paint and Clarke only caught the subtle trace of it because she had been looking. She could tell that Lexa was struggling to hide her favoritism for the boy, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had ever shared anything so intimate as a hug.

The moment was lost as Lexa’s expression fell back to impassive. “ _Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim_ ,” she spoke in _Trigedasleng_.

“May we meet again, Heda,” he responded in English as he pulled away, averting his gaze as if trying to hide the worries that were clouding his eyes.

To Clarke’s surprise, he moved over to her, wrapping her in a firm hug before she had a chance to register the overwhelming sense of affection that flooded her body. After a moment, she returned the pressure of his hug with her own. “Bring her back,” he whispered in her ear and Clarke could hear the apprehension in his voice.

“I will,” Clarke promised, pulling herself from his grasp. She thought it was a bit comical that Aden was expecting her to care for Lexa, but at the same time she knew that she would protect the Commander with her life. She sensed that Aden knew it as well.

Aden gave her a single nod. “May we meet again, Clarke,” he said before turning away and disappearing through the ranks of the sentries.

Clarke watched him fade into the crowd and glanced over at Lexa, surprised to see her watching her curiously, green eyes flashing with affection. She was fighting to hide it, but Clarke could see a faint smile tugging at the edges of her lips and she could tell that her interaction with Aden had given the Commander some semblance of peace. Clarke felt her cheeks flush beneath Lexa’s silent admiration, but their moment was lost before she could put words to the thoughts that were dancing around in her head.

They reached the city gates and found Indra waiting there for them. The hardened warrior sat atop a daunting steed and she too was clad in armor from head to toe. By the look of the warriors and the weary expression on Indra’s face, Clarke almost could have believed that they were actually riding into battle rather than riding to negotiate the end of one. Indra wore black boots up to her knees and dark metal armor over her thighs and shoulders, appearing as if she was ready to take on Ice Nation singlehandedly. She had a large sword strapped across her back and she sat stoically in the saddle as her horse shifted from foot to foot nervously at the approach of the war party.

Lexa regarded her fondly, reaching up to clasp her wrist in greeting before turning to fetch her horse from a stable hand. “Clarke?” Indra called to her, tone flat and yielding no emotion. “I was not aware that you would be riding with us.”

Clarke searched for any trace of disappointment or scorn in the woman’s features, but found none there. “They’re my people,” she replied. “I have a duty to them.”

“It is good that you are here,” Indra answered and Clarke briefly thought that she had imagined the words for a moment. “We have much to discuss with the Commander.”

Before she could answer, Lexa returned guiding two horses by the reins to where they stood. Clarke recognized the strong brown stallion she had ridden on her trip to Polis and reached up to run her hand soothingly along his snout. Beside her, Lexa cooed to her regal white mount before throwing her leg over the steed’s back and pulling herself up into the saddle with a single fluid motion. Clarke had to remind herself to breathe, stricken by the sight of Lexa on her horse, long red cape flowing like blood against the white flanks. She was a wonder to behold, captivating and entrancing and daunting all at the same time, the most beautiful thing in the world, yet also the most dangerous.

Lexa cleared her throat, breaking Clarke’s daze, and she again felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. At times she couldn’t help herself; she knew that her affections were obvious, out there in the open for everyone to see, but in the light of a single candle each night, Lexa was hers. It was an overwhelming feeling that left her hands shaking and her nerves completely fried as if her entire system had been jolted back to life the moment that Lexa found her in the woods near Mount Weather. It dawned on her in that moment that even when her grief was too much to bear and the weight of the world was crushing down on her, she still had a reason to pick herself up and simply carry on.

Clarke held the Commander’s gaze a second longer, willing her to feel the unspoken words in the space between them, hoping that her eyes could say everything that her voice could not. She grabbed the reins of her mount and hoisted herself up into the saddle as gracefully as she could manage, though she imagined that it wasn’t actually graceful at all. When she was situated, Lexa shifted her steed so that they were side by side before giving the horse a gentle kick and spurring it in to motion.

They trotted along at the center of Lexa’s personal guard, the twenty-or-so horses hammering the ground like a stampede as they went. Indra fell into an easy stride beside them and she had to shout in order to be heard over the sound of thundering hooves. “I fear Ice Nation has planned for your arrival, Heda,” she called, and Clarke had to strain to hear her from Lexa’s other side.

“I should hope so,” Lexa replied. “They were told to hold position until I got there.” Her voice was strong and again Clarke found herself admiring the way that Lexa could shift between hard and soft; the Commander, and the girl who was afraid of the dark.

“That is not what I meant, Heda,” Indra answered, casting her a chastising look. “I think they are planning something.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke found herself asking, nearly shouting so that Indra could hear her.

Indra spared a quick glance at Lexa, verifying that it was okay to speak freely before regarding Clarke. “I have scouts watching and reporting back to me,” Indra explained, now addressing the both of them. “I believe that _Azgeda_ aims to wipe the _Skaikru_ refugees out and make it appear as if Lexa gave the order willingly. They will try to convince you that _Skaikru_ attacked them first, and that they have a right to defend themselves on their own land. They will call for blood,” she continued.

Lexa nodded her understanding but did not speak, her jaw working back in forth in the way that Clarke knew she was mulling over her thoughts. It was Clarke who spoke instead. “Why would they do that?” she asked though the words _Jus drein jus daun_ were echoing in the back of her mind.

“If it appears that _Skaikru_ attacked first, Lexa will have no choice but to give the order to wipe them out. If she does not, it will seem that she is choosing the Sky People over her own, and it will weaken her standing as Commander. Nia would challenge her then after,” Indra elaborated, the pieces starting to fall into place.

“But what would Nia stand to gain if Lexa gave the order to kill my people?” Clarke asked, seeing a glaring hole in the Ice Queen’s plan.

Indra shrugged in her saddle. “She knows that Lexa would not give that order lightly due to your…familiarity. But if Heda did call for blood, then it would appear to the rest of _Skaikru_ that the Commander broke her own peace treaty. Nia would seek to ally with them to gain control of the technology in Mount Weather and again use it to challenge Lexa.”

Clarke felt her heart sink. From the moment she found out that Farm Station was trapped in Ice Nation territory, she had worried for Lexa’s safety and the possibility that Nia might move against her while she traveled to _Azgeda_. She had been wrong; the Ice Queen had already made her move, and now they were playing right into it. Nia had somehow managed to turn the Commander into a pawn.

“What do we do?” Clarke asked. As experienced of a chess player she was, it seemed that Nia was playing three steps ahead.

“We negotiate,” Lexa replied, speaking for the first time. Despite the information just revealed to her, the Commander seemed to be relaxed and Clarke could not tell if she was masking her fear or if she truly wasn’t worried.

“How?”

“With you,” Indra supplied. “Nia expected Lexa to leave you back in Polis out of concern for your safety considering the bounty on your head. With you present, we can negotiate with the survivors of your Ark and come to a peace agreement.”

Clarke eyed Lexa and Indra, trying to piece together their unspoken plan. “I fail to see how I would make a difference,” she stated.

Lexa perked up at that, green eyes softening with affection. “My people regard you as the leader of _Skaikru_ , Clarke,” she said. “If you are there to bear witness to negotiations, Nia will be unable to challenge my word and unable to sway the Sky People to her cause. The conflict will end without further bloodshed.”

Clarke understood then why Lexa had been so at ease through the disturbing revelations of their conversation. Nia’s plan could not work if Lexa chose to negotiate peace rather than fuel a war. Lexa would not look weak to the other clan leaders if Indra’s scouts verified that it was Ice Nation who initiated the conflict between the two people, and the stranded _Skaikru_ station would be granted safe passage to Camp Jaha. Nia’s game of chess that she’d been playing all along would end in a stalemate if Clarke had anything to say about it.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke stood in the middle of Lexa’s makeshift command tent; the canvas walls around them awash with the soft yellow glow of dozens of bouncing candles. She wasn’t sure how far they’d traveled already, only that they had been on horseback all day and her legs were now groaning in protest and she was pretty sure that a colony of blisters had made her ass a new permanent home. She knew that they had been moving north and the autumn air outside had turned from chilly to biting, steadily growing colder with each hour they had spent on the move. She understood that Ice Nation got its name from somewhere, but she had never in her life been exposed to this level of freezing before. And they were hardly halfway there yet.

But inside Lexa’s tent, fires burned in the metal floor basins and candles cast heat of their own, warming the air to a comfortable temperature that had Clarke’s blood thawing. She’d long since bathed to chase the chill from her bones and changed into what resembled the Grounder version of sweat pants and a long sleeve sweater. Lexa had disappeared into the other room to take her own bath, and Clarke had wanted to giver her some privacy, not wanting to push the boundaries of their new relationship: if it could even be considered that yet. She sat idly on the day bed at the center of the room letting her mind wander to places that she hadn’t seen in a while.

She wondered about Camp Jaha and the friends she left behind there. She wondered about her mother’s well-being and if Abby Griffin had received word that she was safe in Polis with Lexa and not to worry. She thought about Octavia and Lincoln and if the young warrior has since had contact with her mentor, Indra, after Mount Weather. She wondered about Raven and how her leg was healing and felt an instant wave of regret at not being there for the other girl should she need her. Somewhere between coming to the ground, Finn’s betrayal, and his subsequent death, the girls had grown quite fond of each other. She thought about Bellamy and the way his hand trembled atop hers as they pulled that lever together in Mount Weather, and again guilt swept through her. 

She wondered if Bellamy felt the same crushing weight of grief and sorrow at their actions as she did, and how he was managing to keep himself together on his own. Clarke had Lexa to help guide her and pull her through the dark parts of her soul that haunted her in the night and whispered to her even as she woke. She hoped that Bellamy had found something similar in her time away from _Skaikru_. 

But what Clarke wondered most in that moment, despite her wandering thoughts and hidden concerns, was what Lexa looked like in the next room over. She imagined the Commander soaking neck deep in the tub and the thought sent a burst of warmth shooting through her body that resounded hot and sticky between her thighs. Before she could talk herself out of it, or at least talk herself into thinking rationally, she stood up and made a beeline for the flaps that partitioned the two sections of the tent. Taking a breath, she ducked inside.

She didn’t make it far. The sight of Lexa in the tub, brown hair wet and flowing down her shoulders and sun-kissed skin glistening with drops of water in the candlelight, froze her in her tracks. Lexa’s forest green eyes went wide as Clarke stood in her doorway, raking her eyes over the Commander from head to toe. Beneath the surface of the water, Clarke caught sight of firm breasts before Lexa crossed her arms to cover them. Suddenly she felt like this had been a rather bad and extremely invasive idea.

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, tone laced with surprise and expression shifting from shock to embarrassment beneath flushing red cheeks. “Is something wrong?”

“N— No,” Clarke managed to find her voice. “I’m sorry, this was so stupid,” she sputtered out, whirling around to leave.

She was already halfway out the door when Lexa replied. “Wait,” she called, almost urgently, halting Clarke in her tracks. “You don’t have to go.”

“Are you sure?” Clarke asked, turning back around. Lexa had relaxed, pushing past her initial shock and looked at ease, maybe even amused, as she sat back in the tub and let the steaming water ripple around her, rising in wisps that pulled sweat from her skin to cling to the drops of water already lingering there.

“I’m sure if you are, Clarke,” she answered, always holding Clarke’s feelings in high respect. “What has you troubled? Or did you just want to see me naked?” Lexa asked and Clarke was surprised at the humor in her voice. 

She still couldn’t quite adapt to the fact that Lexa could switch so easily between her powerful façade and the soft, playful woman that Clarke knew in private. She thought back to the first time she had ever met Lexa, daunting and imposing atop her throne, her beauty and strength commanding attention the way the sun does at dawn. They had come a long way from ‘ _So you’re the one_ …’ to falling asleep in each other’s arms and stealing kisses deep into the night.

Clarke shuffled further into the room, making a conscious effort to avert her eyes from Lexa’s naked form as she wandered over to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Can it be both?” she asked, keeping the conversation light.

Lexa regarded her fondly, affection shining in the green of her eyes before letting her expression fall to something slightly more serious. “Are you okay, Clarke?” she asked.

“Yes,” Clarke answered. “I was just thinking about my mom and my friends.”

“You are not my prisoner, Clarke,” Lexa replied. “You’re free to return to Camp Jaha at any time.” Even as she said the words, Clarke could sense the hesitation in her voice and she knew that the Commander didn’t want her to leave.

Clarke shrugged, flopping back onto the bed. “I don’t think I’m ready yet. Seeing all of them will just remind me of the things I had to do to save them. Sometimes I think that I’m better off on my own.”

Lexa tilted her head to the side in a way that told Clarke she was pondering her words and choosing her own carefully. “As much as you blame yourself, your people do not blame you, Clarke. One cannot be a leader without accepting the fact that sometimes you’ll have to bear the weight of your decisions alone,” she explained. “But you are not alone, Clarke. I’m right here.”

The words sent the familiar sensation of butterflies soaring through her chest and she had to fight to hide the smile that she knew was trying to break free on her lips. Lexa’s support meant more to her than the Commander would ever know. “And I’m here for you too,” she whispered, not sure what else to say.

“I owe you an apology, Clarke,” Lexa said, abruptly, catching Clarke completely off guard. “I should not have tried to make you stay behind in Polis when your people are at stake.”

Clarke thought of the expression she’d seen on Lexa’s face and the fear in her eyes when she’d first tried to convince her to let her come. She had been so terrified that it nearly broke Clarke’s heart. “You have every right to be worried,” she stated. She didn’t want to mention Costia’s name, but it hung in her words even as she tried to veil them.

Lexa sighed and sat up in the tub, glancing at Clarke before she rose and wrapped a towel around her body as Clarke’s eyes raked hungrily over her bare physique. Clarke knew she was staring, but couldn’t bring herself to look away, and it seemed as if Lexa didn’t mind much or in the very least wasn’t self-conscious about it. 

“Nia would not hesitate to hurt you if she knew that it would hurt me,” Lexa said, the admission hanging thick and stale in the air. It both excited and terrified Clarke that Lexa cared for her enough to be hurt if anything was to happen to her.

“Why does Nia hate you so much?” she asked, afraid that she might be pushing the subject too far. “Or is it just a power struggle?”

Lexa’s shoulders fell as she wandered over to her wardrobe and dipped behind a screen to dress. Her voice came over the top of the divider, “It is both,” she replied. “Ice Nation is the largest of all the clans. It would take the armies of three clans just to equal theirs in size, and Nia believes that it is her right to lead the Coalition by sheer force and numbers. But her hatred for me is far more…personal…” she explained, trailing off.

“What do you mean?”

Lexa’s sigh came heavy from behind the partition. “The clans were at war when I first ascended,” she began. “Six stood with me and the Coalition while the other six stood with Nia and _Azgeda_. There were many battles fought, including the one in which my predecessor was killed. It was Nia’s eldest son who killed the Commander before me,” she explained.

Clarke thought she could tell where this story was going, but she remained silent and let Lexa continue. “He was captured soon after the battle and my first decision as Commander was to rule on his fate. Nia came to bargain for his freedom, a dozen or so of the Coalition’s captured warriors for his life. However, I could not free him. Blood must have blood,” she finished.

Lexa emerged from behind the screen now dressed in similar attire to Clarke’s. She looked comfortable and at ease in her sweats, damp hair swept to the side and feet bare against the cold ground. “You killed Nia’s eldest son?” Clarke asked, already knowing the answer. She had seen the Grounder’s version of justice when Lexa drove her sword through Gustus’s heart, she couldn’t imagine the fate they reserved for patricide.

“I executed him for treason,” she answered, climbing onto the bed beside Clarke and wrapping her arms around her body. “In front of Nia.”

The revelation shocked Clarke, and Lexa picked up on it, her expression slightly faltering and she let her hands fall from where they rested on Clarke’s waist. Clarke reacted quickly, grabbing hold of the Commander and pulling her close again. She hadn’t meant for her expression to falter, after all, the Council had executed her own father right in front of her. Sometimes the harshest of punishments was the only way to ensure obedience.

“You think it was harsh but—

“No,” Clarke said, cutting Lexa off and bringing her hands up to frame the Commander’s face. “You were doing your job.”

Their eyes met, swimming together in the space between them. “Sometimes I think if I had spared him,” Lexa whispered, “Then maybe Nia would have spared Costia.”

The conversation had shifted so suddenly that it took Clarke a moment to process the admission and the vulnerability lingering in the green of Lexa’s eyes. “Lexa, no,” Clarke replied, letting her thumb trace the Commander’s impeccable jawline. “What happened to…that wasn’t your fault,” she tried to assure her but couldn’t bring herself to speak of Costia as if she knew her. She didn’t know anything about Lexa’s former lover except that she had a propensity for music and somehow wound up captured by the wrong people and killed protecting the person she loved most.

“I killed Nia’s son, Clarke,” Lexa answered, her tone laced with guilt and regret. “And I paid the price for it.”

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, urging her to hear the sincerity in her voice. “Nia holds you responsible for her son’s death even though it was his own actions that caused it. You can’t blame yourself for the ignorance and hatred that grows in someone else’s heart.”

Clarke thought of Finn and the way she blamed herself for his death at first, seeing as it was her hand that ended his life. But it was Finn’s own actions that led to his demise. He would have never been tied to that pole and facing execution had he not slaughtered a village full of innocent people. Lexa had commanded his death, and Clarke had carried it out, but it was Finn who had ultimately killed himself.

Lexa shifted closer still and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You sound like Anya,” she mused. “She said the same thing, just with slightly more colorful language.”

Clarke conjured an image of Lexa’s former mentor and felt a wave of regret at not having had the chance to get to know her better. Anya had been the one to agree to broker a peace between the Grounders and the Sky People before she’d been killed. Her death had been _Skaikru’s_ fault, though Clarke had not yet been able to bring herself to tell Lexa that. She wanted to tell her now, but couldn’t find the words or the courage to admit it. She wasn’t sure if it truly mattered now anyway; the dead were gone, and nothing they said could ever change that.

“What was it like being raised by Anya?” Clarke found herself asking instead. She didn’t know if the topic was safe or if it was too personal, but she couldn’t help that she wanted to know every detail about the Commander’s life. It made Lexa feel more human and less like the infinite pillar of strength and wisdom that she tried so hard to be.

Lexa smiled fondly at the memories playing in her mind. “She beat me up every chance she got,” she laughed. “And she was hard on me. Not because she enjoyed it, but because she knew it would make me into a good leader one day.”

Clarke had been on the receiving end of one of Anya’s beatings and definitely was not laughing about it, though it warmed her heart to hear Lexa’s melodic giggle. “I could imagine her being hard on you,” she probed, wanting to know more.

“Anya was always like an older sister to me. She was my mentor before anything else, but she was also my family, Clarke,” Lexa explained. Clarke couldn’t help but think of the way the Commander interacted with Aden and wondered if Anya had been the same way with her. “She cared for me when I was sick and stitched my wounds when I was injured, even if at times she was the cause of those wounds,” Lexa laughed again though there was a measure of sadness in her eyes now. “She always made sure that I had food in my stomach and clothes on my back. She was proud the day that Titus came to take me to Polis. I think she always knew that I would be Commander.”

“She would be proud of you now,” Clarke whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Lexa’s cheek. “She wanted peace too.”

Lexa’s eyes fell to Clarke’s lips and then back up again. “Yes, she did,” Lexa replied, though her tone was laced with desire and Clarke could tell that her mind was elsewhere now as their mouths edged slightly closer together.

“And what do you want, Commander?” Clarke heard herself asking before she could decide against it, her voice raspy with lust.

“You,” Lexa whispered, closing the space between them before Clarke could muster a reply.

The kiss burned hot against her lips as Lexa’s mouth closed around hers, urgent and brimming with enough desire to send shivers down Clarke’s spine. She parted her lips to taste Lexa’s tongue against her own and let out a sharp gasp when she felt teeth dig into her bottom lip. The sensation sparked a new fire in her blood that burned with an intensity she had never felt before, hearing a moan escape deep from within her own throat that she had no control over. She flipped Lexa over onto her back using her weight to pin her down, her knee planted firmly between the Commander’s legs.

She broke the kiss to let her mouth wander down Lexa’s neck, tasting sweat muddled with desire on the warmth of her skin. Lexa’s pulse thrummed against her lips and she could feel how rapidly her heart was beating as she let her tongue trail down her throat and then back up again. She breathed her longing in Lexa’s ear and felt the way the Commander shuttered beneath her, digging her hands into the fabric of Clarke’s shirt, back arching upward with need.

Clarke’s hands moved of their own volition, finding their way beneath the hem of Lexa’s shirt and lifting it off before she could even register the thought that Lexa might be naked beneath the heavy sweater. Bare breasts greeted Clarke, nipples pert and pebbled in the open air and Clarke felt herself swallowing thickly, trying to choke back the pleasure that welled within her. 

Lexa shifted nervously as her gaze found Clarke’s and she leaned up to devour her mouth in a hungry kiss again. Clarke immediately shoved her back down, capturing Lexa’s surprised gasp with her lips as her hands explored the length of her body. Lexa’s scars were rigid beneath Clarke’s fingers as she moved to trace her stiffened nipples with her thumb, grinning at the gentle moan the action drew from the Commander.

She pulled away from the kiss once more to let her mouth travel down Lexa’s neck again, peppering kisses across her collarbone as she dipped lower still. She moved down to Lexa’s breast, sucking a hardened nipple into her mouth and letting her tongue dance around it, enjoying the way that Lexa’s hips bucked up against her thigh where it pressed into the warmth between her legs. Clarke’s mouth moved down to the Commander’s abs, feeling the way they tensed beneath her tongue as she found her way to the prominent hip bones that she’d been dying to taste since the first night she’d seen Lexa with her shirt off.

“Clarke!” Lexa gasped as she nipped at the bone there, intent on leaving her mark where only she could see.

“Hmm?” Clarke hummed against her skin, hearing the throaty desire in her own voice.

Clarke shifted up, finding Lexa’s mouth again as she increased the pressure of her knee, pushing gently between her thighs. She was hesitant at first, concerned that she may have been moving too fast, but the way Lexa’s thighs clenched around hers and pulled her in further had the doubts dissolving in her mind. She surged forward again as Lexa’s hips thrust up to meet her and Clarke had to fight from coming undone with her own pleasure at the sight of the Commander writhing beneath her.

“Clarke,” Lexa whimpered her name against her lips, her breath coming out in shallow pants. “Clarke,” she said again, this time more urgently.

“Yeah, baby?” Clarke asked, smiling at the name. “You like that don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lexa moaned and Clarke felt a wave of warmth soak between her own legs.

She quickened her pace to match the urgency in which Lexa was pressing into her, watching the expressions on the Commander’s face as her brow furrowed in pleasure. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her cheeks were flushed a deep red, her plump kiss-swollen lips slightly parted as Clarke bent to capture them in her mouth again. She felt the way Lexa’s release built against her thigh, her thrusts becoming faster and her quiet whimpers becoming more desperate with each passing second.

She felt Lexa’s hands slip beneath them hem of her shirt as her nails raked across her back, pulling her in even harder still. Clarke’s jaw clenched at the pleasant pain and she fought back a moan of her own as she bore down on the Commander, needing desperately to help her find her release. She would be the cause of Lexa’s undoing, she was intent on it, and she felt Lexa’s orgasm as it swept through her entire body, hot and wet against her leg.

Lexa’s features went slack as she moaned loudly, though Clarke muffled it with a kiss, wanting nothing more than to taste her release. She softened her pressure between the Commander’s thighs as she road out her orgasm, letting it wrack through her entire body until she collapsed in a breathless panting heap. Lexa’s eyes popped open, glassy and glazed over with euphoria, and she stared at Clarke, silence hanging heavy in the space between them as if she wasn’t sure what to say.

Clarke felt a smile spread across her face as she bent to press a gentle kiss to Lexa’s lips again. “I knew you were a bottom,” she whispered in the Commander’s ear, failing miserably at hiding her laughter.

“I am not a bottom, Clarke!” Lexa whined, burying her face in Clarke’s shoulder to hide the blush in her cheeks.

Clarke laughed again, letting herself collapse onto the bed next to Lexa and wrapping her arms around the Commander’s bare waist. Their gazes met, swimming together in a mix of earth and sky, and Clarke could see the same look in Lexa’s eyes in that moment that she had whenever she was speaking of Costia. It was pure, uninhibited, unhindered, uncontrollable affection. She was sure she was seeing love in the Commander’s eyes, and wondered if her own reflected the same.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The journey to Ice Nation was long and strenuous, made longer by the biting wind and numbing cold. The horses' hooves dug deep trenches into the thick white snow bank at their feet and the frosty air stung Clarke's cheeks to the point of pain. The trees around them were covered in layers of white that muddled into a dirty brown at the bases and the sun itself seemed to be drained of any heat, blinding off the reflection of the snow, yet too distant to draw any warmth. Even the air itself seemed to be frozen, devoid of any moisture and clinging faintly to the fading scents of pine needle and smoke.

Clarke had tried to ignore the bitter cold at first, withholding any complaints or protests even after her feet and fingers had long since gone numb. She was clad in a thick fur overcoat and woven wool pants that Lexa had provided for her, she'd even donned an extra pair of socks, and still she was frozen to the bone. The Commander was dressed in heavy furs of her own, midnight black against the bright snow, red cape flowing out from beneath and down her back. Her face was shrouded beneath a hood, casting shadows over her war paint and appearing as if a pair of emerald eyes was staring out from the depths of darkness. Clarke thought that she looked haunting, eerie even, like the way a wolf stalks its prey, but inhumanly beautiful nonetheless, an ethereal goddess of war. 

When she was sure her toes were blue, Clarke couldn't take it anymore. She willingly abandoned her individual steed and her inhibitions in order to climb into the saddle with Lexa, needing to feel the heat that so often radiated between them. She allowed her horse to be led away by one of the other warriors so that she could position herself in front of the Commander on her mount, snuggling gratefully into the smoldering warmth of Lexa's solid form. Lexa had been prepared for this journey as if she had made it a hundred times before, and she brought with her enough furs to wrap around both herself and Clarke, bundling their bodies together. Clarke leaned back against her, instantly feeling her blood begin to thaw and trying not to be lulled to sleep in the absence of having to focus on staying atop a horse.

"You may sleep, Clarke," Lexa whispered, leaning down into her ear so that only she could hear. "I've got you."

"I'll be fine," Clarke heard herself replying but her eyes had already begun to droop shut. She leaned further into Lexa's arms, resting her full body weight against the Commander's chest, and drifted off before she could even hear Lexa's soothing answer.

Clarke awoke to the sounds of panic, rustled into consciousness by the slight stiffening of Lexa's body behind her and she knew instantly that something was amiss. The sound of hooves thundered all around them and Clarke had a brief moment to register that they were much louder than they had been before, as if their horses had somehow multiplied while she slept. Then came the chorus of shouts in _Trigedasleng_ , and Lexa's equally loud reply, strong and commanding against Clarke's back.

She opened her eyes, leaning forward and glancing around wildly to survey their surroundings. It was just before dusk, the sun glinting orange off the white snow and turning the entire world the same pale shade of yellow that a candle casts in the dead of night. They were atop a hill overlooking a valley of frozen trees below, hundreds of makeshift tents sprawled out before them housing what Clarke could only assume to be the Ice Nation army. She watched as warriors milled about below, huddled around dozens of different fires as they waited for further orders from their queen or from their Heda. The scent of cooked meat wafted in the air and carried swiftly on the wind to where they stood on the hilltop.

She had seen an army like this amassed before; the night that they marched on Mount Weather together, _Skaikru_ and Grounders working as one. She remembered the excitement in the warriors’ voices as they chanted the Commander's name, loud and long into the night. Now the only sound that Clarke could hear was the echoing of lumbering hooves off the canyon walls as a massive war party moved to surround Lexa and her guard atop their horses.

Far into the distance and across what looked like an open white field, Clarke could see the remains of part of the Ark. Farm Station was buried deep within a snow bank, having created a crater when it crashed on its decent from space that had long since filled with snow. There were no people that Clarke could see, no visible signs of life anywhere and Clarke felt panic grip her as she wondered if any of her people were actually left. It didn’t appear that there had been any signs of battle, and from this distance she couldn’t tell if the deep mars and scratches in the metal of the station were from impact or more devious means. She would not have thought that anyone had even survived the crash save for the makeshift fence that had been erected around the front of the station. Perhaps there were some still alive inside, but she wouldn’t know until they got down there.

The Ice Nation warriors that moved to surround them were still shouting, and again Lexa responded authoritatively and Clarke could feel the way her spine and shoulders went rigid behind her. "What's going on?" she asked.

Her question had been directed at Lexa, but it was Indra who provided her with an answer as Lexa continued what sounded like an argument with the leader of the war party. "They have been expecting our arrival," Indra replied, shifting her mount closer to the Commander in an obvious show of protection. Clarke noticed that the entire guard had shifted into a defensive position, enclosing Lexa in the center of the pack. "The Ice Queen seeks an audience, but requests that our weapons remain here."

"That's not gonna happen," Clarke scoffed, and it seemed as if Lexa had shared the same sentiment because a moment later the Ice Nation warrior gave up his argument with a nervous expression as he spurred his mount down into the valley.

The rest of the war party moved to follow and Clarke felt Lexa give their horse a gentle kick to get it moving. Lexa leaned down into Clarke's ear again, keeping her voice low and her eyes trained on their surroundings. "Stay close to me, Clarke," she said, her voice fierce and resounding with a measure of protectiveness. "Do not for one second leave my side."

Clarke felt the way Lexa shifted behind her, as if attempting to conceal her from view with her own body. She glanced over at Indra and the warrior was looking at them, curiosity written in her deep brown eyes, but she did not question. Instead she moved closer, as if attempting to provide Clarke and Lexa with another layer of security. Clarke wondered if Indra was aware of her relationship with the Commander, if that had been something that they may have discussed. She figured Lexa was not one to talk about her personal business with others, but it’s not like she was attempting to hide her concern for Clarke's safety at the moment either. 

She knew that Nia had placed a bounty on her head, but would someone really try to claim it even in the presence of the Commander? The thought sent shivers down her spine as she pictured the massive hands that had not long ago wrapped around her throat to squeeze the life from her body. She didn’t want to find out. It wasn’t until they were in the midst of the Ice Nation camp that she realized just how much danger they were in. The army of _Azgeda_ outnumbered Lexa and her guard a thousand to one, and should they aim to attack, there would really be nothing that they could do to defend themselves aside from fleeing. 

Clarke then realized that is exactly why the guard moved to surround Lexa, so that maybe by some miracle, they could buy her enough time to escape should she need to. The thought was unsettling and Clarke felt her hand instinctively reaching for the gun at her hip, suddenly grateful for the imposing weight of it as it clunked against her side. Lexa must have sensed her trepidation because a moment later Clarke felt a reassuring hand slide over her waist, calming and lending strength through contact.

Lexa's hand did not leave its spot on her side the entire time that they wandered through the camp as if the touch itself served to calm the Commander too. The thousands of Ice Nation soldiers stopped and stared as they rode by, some nodding or bowing in respect, and others standing straight in complete defiance. It was becoming painfully clear that there was descent among the army of _Azgeda_ , and Clarke wondered if perhaps the clan was not as strong as they feigned to be.

When they finally came to a stop in front of a large tent, far larger than the rest, Clarke's nerves were fried and the hair on the nape of her neck was standing on end. She was anxious, writhing in anticipation, and she could feel the way Lexa tensed behind her, sighing deeply her as she moved to dismount. From the ground, Lexa reached up, extending a single hand to help Clarke down behind her. They stood face to face for a moment, their gazes lingering in a desperate attempt to try to communicate with words unspoken, and Clarke wanted fervently to close the small distance between them. Instead, they both nodded once in silent understanding and turned away.

Titus filtered into view from somewhere at the back of the pack of warriors and it was the first time that Clarke had seen him since their departure in Polis. She figured he would have been at Lexa’s side for the duration of the journey, but perhaps she sensed the discomfort he stirred in Clarke and had asked him to remain with the rest of her guard. He was there now, staring at their brief exchange with a disapproving scowl in his face. His eyes were distant and scanning nervously as if the entire ordeal made him feel uneasy, and his white knuckled clutch on the sword at his side confirmed it. He was scared.

Lexa’s guard moved to surround them on foot, but held position at the entrance to the tent, waiting for orders. Indra motioned for them to hold position as she dipped inside the tent and was only gone for a moment before reappearing and signaling that it was safe. Lexa gave her an appreciative nod and then looked to Clarke, sucking in a deep breath before pushing forward and sweeping through the flaps with authority. Clarke followed, holding her spine rigid and her chin high, trying to make herself look as commanding as possible though she knew that her presence paled compared to Lexa’s.

Inside, the tent was dark and cold, uninviting and daunting in comparison to the warm and brightly lit space that Lexa kept as her portable command center. No fires burned in floor basins and the faint light that spread through the room came from a single floor chandelier, lit by a few dozen candles. Even the candles themselves seem to glow with less vigor, and in the dim room around them, Clarke could barely make out the shapes of Ice Nation guards where they stood in the dark shadows. Various furs lined the ground, similar to carpeting, except the heads of the animals were still attached to the pelts and it gave Clarke an unnerving feeling as if she was stepping through a graveyard. 

As if reading her thoughts, a shrouded figure moved around the room, lighting various candles so that they could better see. A throne similar to Lexa’s danced into view a few yards in front of them, though instead of antlers, wood and steel, this throne was made of chalky bone and bright silver. She could make out the outline of someone seated atop the chair, but could not see the features until a fire in a basin at the base of the throne sparked to life. The new light revealed a woman, clad in grey and white furs, legs crossed and leaning back leisurely as if Lexa’s presence was nothing more than an annoyance. 

She was an older woman, her hair a platinum blonde that rivaled the snow itself, pulled back in braids that clung tightly to her scalp. Her skin was pale, as if she hadn’t seen the light of day in a year and Clarke could see the scars that marked her as Ice Nation etched deep into her cheeks and framing her face. Her eyes were as blue as ice and looking as if winter itself lived within them, ready to freeze anyone with a single cold glare. She wore a crown atop her head, made of the same bone that cased the throne she sat on and her entire demeanor radiated hatred as her eyes shifted from Lexa and then to Clarke.

The Ice Queen was not alone. A young man stood on her right, strong and imposing where he shifted from foot to foot. He wore the same gray furs as the woman beside him, a long cloak flowing from his solid shoulders and down behind him where it dragged the ground. His brown hair fell to his shoulders and his eyes were dark beneath the scars that framed his brow. He was tan, and by the way he carried himself, it was clear that he was a warrior. If his stance wasn’t enough to give it away, the steel sword that hung from his belt looked as if it could cleave a man’s head from his shoulders with a single blow.

On Nia’s other side, a young woman stared in Clarke’s direction. Even in the dim light, Clarke could see that this woman was hauntingly beautiful. Her eyes were dark and calculating as they surveyed the room, almost like she was counting each and every warrior and plotting their individual demise. She too wore gray robes, though the material was much lighter than her companions, as if the cold did not bother her at all. She was young, probably close to Clarke’s age, but there was an air about her that felt cold and ancient, and she stood eerily still beneath a black mane of unruly hair.

Lexa shifted her stance to stand slightly in front of Clarke as if again shielding her, using her body as a protective barrier. “Nia,” Lexa spoke, voice devoid of any sort of emotion. “Prince Roan,” she said, addressing the man at the Ice Queen’s side.

Nia stood slowly, making herself tall and imposing as she hovered over them. “Alexandria,” she said, her tone full of guile. “You’ve finally come to condemn the Sky People.”

“I’ve come to pass fair judgment,” Lexa answered without falter.

Nia’s cold blue eyes again fell to Clarke and she stared a moment until recognition seemed to resonate in her features. “And you’ve brought their young leader with you,” she noted, motioning to where Clarke stood behind Lexa. “So this is the great _Wanheda_ ,” she spat, the words dripping with sarcasm on her tongue.

“This is Clarke of the Sky People,” the Commander corrected her, though her tone was still emotionless. “She has come to bare witness to negotiations.”

“Negotiations?” The Ice Queen asked with outrage rising in her voice. “Negotiations to what? Her people attacked us in our own territory!”

“So you say,” Lexa replied, coldly. 

Even in the dark, Clarke could see Nia’s eyebrows shoot nearly to her hairline. “You accuse me of lying?” she asked, nearly shouting.

“No,” the Commander responded, maintaining control of her emotions though her jaw tensed slightly, ticking in the way that Clarke could tell she was holding back anger. “I simply mean to say that an army as vast and powerful as Ice Nation surely should have no trouble with a few dozen foreign invaders.”

Clarke eyed the Commander warily; unsure of where she was going with the conversation. She had not expected Lexa to suggest any sort of flattery or praise of the people that were slaughtering her own, but she did not protest. In the dim candle light, she could see the wisdom in the green of Lexa’s eyes, deep and infinite and patient, resonating as if it had lived there for a hundred years. She realized then that despite all they had been through, despite the betrayal she had felt at Mount Weather, she trusted Lexa. She remained silent and allowed the Commander to proceed with whatever plan she was concocting in the back of her mind.

“There has been no problem with the Sky People,” Nia replied, automatically jumping to the defense of her army. “They are weak.”

“And what of the casualties? Has _Azgeda_ suffered a blow?” Lexa asked, continuing to prod.

The Ice Queen’s posture shifted defensively. “We are stronger than ever,” she answered as if Lexa had challenged her strength. “We have taken far more lives than given.”

“I see,” the Commander mused, seemingly content with the answer she’d received. “And how many of the Sky People remain?” she asked.

“A few dozen, nothing more,” Nia replied, suddenly becoming weary as her tone shifted to one of scrutiny.

Clarke hadn’t realized it, but she’d been holding her breath for the answer when Lexa asked the question. Her people were alive, wounded and beaten no doubt, but alive, and she breathed out a sigh of relief that could be heard throughout the room. She hadn’t let her hand fall away from the gun at her side and she let it rest there now, glancing from face to face to see if anyone had heard her audible relief. The air in the room was stale and cold and her action had gone ignored by all except for Lexa who shifted slightly closer, bringing with her warmth and comfort in the space between them as if trying to lend Clarke her strength. She heard the silent message.

“Very well,” Lexa said, speaking again after a moment of deliberation. “Seeing as the _Skaikru_ leader has joined us in this council, we may begin peace talks.”

“Peace?!” Nia spat. “You come into _my_ lands, where _my_ people have been killed, and you demand peace!?” she shouted.

Titus stiffened beside Clarke, surging forward as if he was going to make a move towards the Ice Queen, but Lexa held up a single hand, halting him in place. “You said that _Azgeda_ has taken far more lives from Sky People than they have taken from you,” Lexa answered coldly. “The blood of each has been spilled.”

Clarke put the pieces together, seeing Lexa’s plan hatch in front of her eyes. “My people have suffered enough,” she said, putting every ounce of confidence that she could muster behind her voice.

“How dare you speak—” Nia began, eyes seething, but Lexa quickly cut her off. 

“Clarke may speak freely,” she said, her tone sharp and final as if daring anyone to challenge her.

“Mother,” the man standing to the right of the throne spoke for the first time. Clarke recalled what Lexa had told her the night before about killing Nia’s eldest son, so this must be what was left of her bloodline. “Calm yourself,” he cautioned.

She whirled around on him, venom dripping from her voice when she spoke. “Do not tell me to be calm,” she scoffed. “These people are in _our_ land, killing _our_ people. I demand retribution. _Jus drein jus daun_.”

_Blood must have blood_. Clarke knew the meaning of the words well. “You’ve killed far more of my people than they have killed of yours,” Clarke said, repeating Nia’s own words. “Blood has had blood.”

“I did not ask nor seek your opinion, Clarke of the Sky People,” Nia seethed. “I ask for justice.”

“Justice has been done,” Lexa answered coldly, unwavering in her convictions even as Titus shot her a glare from beside her. “There has been enough blood. Now we make peace.”

“Peace?” Nia laughed. “Your notion of peace is as weak as your leadership,” she spat. 

Lexa stiffened at that, jaw clenching again, anger boiling behind the black mask of her war paint. “If you think me unfit, then issue the challenge,” she replied, voice flat and unwavering.

Clarke’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest and she had to choke back the bile that surged up in her throat at the thought of Lexa having to fend off a formal challenge. She recalled that it meant a fight to the death if a unanimous coupe was not reached, and from what she gathered, the council was in no way unanimously against her. The ambassadors of the clans believed that _Skaikru_ and the technology in Mount Weather was a serious threat, and that peace must be maintained between the clans and the Sky People.

Nia did not reply, but instead stared for a moment as if considering the offer. “You are foolish, _Leksa Kom Trikru_ ,” she growled, so low that Clarke had to strain to hear her words. “And one day you will pay.”

It was a clear and evident threat, bordering very close to the lines of treason, though Lexa did not react. She simply continued on as if she hadn’t heard the Ice Queen at all. “The Sky People are capable of using the weapons in Mount Weather, and we must work to maintain peace with them,” she said, loud enough so that every person within the tent could hear. “Clarke is here to bare witness to the release of her people. _Azgeda_ will grant them safe passage to Camp Jaha as a gesture of good faith. In return, Clarke will not seek vengeance for the many lives lost here,” she finished, her tone authoritative and commanding.

“I accept these terms on behalf of _Skaikru_ ,” Clarke spoke, doing her best to match the strength in Lexa’s voice. She was in awe of the Commander, and watching the way she maneuvered the conversation so cunningly had Clarke’s insides dripping in a warmth that far outpaced the cold around them.

“On behalf of the Coalition, the blood debt between _Skaikru_ and _Azgeda_ has been satisfied. Do you deny this, Nia?” Lexa questioned, arching a brow. “Has your army of thousands been bested by less than a hundred scared farmers?” she pressed on, adding further insult to injury, taunting in a way that Nia could not refuse.

Nia’s eyes narrowed, her glare so sharp that she thought it might wound Lexa in the distance between them, but the Commander held her ground. “ _Azgeda_ accepts,” Nia whispered, defeated.

“Very well,” Lexa answered. She didn’t part amicably or wait for any sort of further response before turning and pulling Clarke with her as she swept out of the room. Indra and Titus followed close behind, the guard surrounding them once more as they poured out of the tent and into the late afternoon sun.

The glare of the sun reflecting off the white snow was blinding in contrast to the dark room they had just emerged from, and Clarke’s eyes were watering as they struggled to adjust. She breathed a sigh of relief and let her gaze find Lexa beside her, their eyes met, and they both looked as if they wanted nothing more than to collapse into each other’s arms. There had been no battle or bloodshed, but it still felt as if they had fought a war nonetheless. Clarke hadn’t even realized how terrified she’d been until they were standing in the light of day again.

Lexa had talked her way through the situation and managed to turn Nia’s plan back around on her, sparing Clarke’s people and protecting her own position as head of the Coalition at the same time. By appearing as if negotiations had been struck and justice had been done on both sides, she had diffused the perilous situation. Clarke had never thought she had looked more beautiful than in that moment; green eyes sparkling with respite beneath her war mask and a slight grin twitching in the corners of her mouth. She was brilliant and wise and so incredibly brave, and Clarke was falling deeply and madly for her with every single second that passed by.

She wanted to tell her how brilliant she was and how badly she wanted to kiss her, but all she could do is stare into the endless forests of Lexa’s gaze as the eyes of thousands of people were undoubtedly on them. “What now?” she asked instead.

“We bring your people home,” Lexa stated as if the answer was simple.

Behind the Ice Queen’s tent, Clarke stared out across the barren white field at the wreckage on the other side. From a closer distance, she could see the scars of battle and wondered at whose familiar faces she would see on the other side of the makeshift wall they had constructed. The piece of Farm Station that had survived the crash to the Earth was far smaller than the one they had made a home in at Camp Jaha, and she could tell that much of it had been destroyed in the wreckage. 

She thought about all the people that had been aboard and how many had actually survived impact. She thought about how scared they must have been to set foot on the ground for the first time in a foreign icy wasteland, surrounded by enemies that they were not even aware existed. She wondered how they had managed to stay alive this long and where they were getting food and sustenance to feed themselves and how they had managed to stay warm. She recalled the first few days after the hundred had touched ground, and remembered the way they were starving and without shelter save for the Drop Ship until they managed to find weapons to hunt and constructed tents from the supplies they’d been sent down with. Staring at farm station now, she saw no tents, no warm fires burning, no movement at all. The people behind those walls must have been terrified.

Clarke took a step in the direction of the wreckage, but Lexa quickly grasped her wrist, holding her back. “What are you doing, Clarke?” she asked, voice more alarmed in that moment than she had heard all evening.

“They need to see a familiar face,” Clarke answered. “They will not come out unless they’re sure it’s safe. I want to get them out of here before Nia changes her mind.”

“They’ve been living in fear for the past month, Clarke. They will shoot you on sight,” she protested.

“I’m the only person they’ll listen to,” she replied, knowing that this part of their mission was on her shoulders and hers alone.

Lexa glanced back and forth between Clarke and the crashed bit of the Ark at the far end of the clearing. “At least take some of my guards with you,” she pleaded, lowering her voice so that only Clarke could hear. She did not want the Ice Nation warriors around them to catch the desperation and fear in her voice, bordering on the lines of begging.

Clarke shook her head once. “They’ll feel less threatened by a single person approaching alone,” she explained.

Lexa’s shoulders fell in defeat knowing that she was right. This was a battle that she could not fight for Clarke as much as she wished she could. The people behind that wall would only accept the word of a familiar face. “Let me come with you,” she whispered. 

“No,” Clarke replied without hesitation. “There is no need for you to put yourself in more danger for me and my people, Lexa,” she said, lifting her hand as if she aimed to cup the Commander’s cheek, but quickly let it fall away. “You’ve done enough already.” The words were an understatement. Clarke was quite sure she could not begin to understand what Lexa had done to ensure her people’s safety. She may have just started a war.

“Just…” Lexa began, but let her words fall away. She looked as if she was contemplating pulling Clarke into her arms and it was taking every ounce of strength in her body to refrain. “Come back to me,” she finished, eyes swimming with worry.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she whispered, slowly backing away.

She hadn’t noticed, but Lexa had been grasping her hand, clutching it so tightly that her fingers had gone numb. Their hands fell away from each other as Clarke backed out of reach, eyes lingering a moment longer with unsaid passions and unspoken desires. She took a deep breath and turned towards the wreckage, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other as she trudged across the empty snow packed field. Every step away from Lexa felt like a piece of warmth was being ripped from her body, leaving her cold and trembling with fear, a sinking feeling resounding in her gut as she got closer.

As she neared the crashed ship, she spotted more signs of battle that she’d not been able to see from afar. The snow was muddled and dirty, churned up and red with blood in some areas and scorched black in others. There were arrows and spears jutting out from the ground and she wondered if she dug through the snow, would the shafts be buried deep in frozen bodies. As she approached the ramshackle wall, she could see that it was made of logs and spare sheets of metal, thrown together as a last line of defense.

Clarke took another step and a loud _crack_ rang out around her, resonating through the empty field and echoing off the walls of the canyon around them. She froze in place, feeling her gut twist with dread as a bullet sunk into the snow at her feet. Behind her she could hear Lexa shouting her name, but she was too scared to move, petrified in fear. The hair on her arms and neck stood straight up and she swallowed back the lump that had built up in her throat, trying desperately to rein control of her emotions. They had come all this way; worried that _Azgeda_ would attack them, when it was her own people that would end her life.

“Don’t take another step!” a voice called from somewhere beyond the wall and she knew that the barrel of a gun was trained on her.

Hearing the command broke her daze, spurring new life through her body as the gears in her mind began turning again. She held up her hands, slowly and deliberately, to show that she meant no harm. Keeping her right hand in the air, she reached down to her belt with her left and unholstered the gun that rested there, lifting it up with the barrel facing downward in an effort to display that she had not meant to use it.

“She’s got a gun!” a female’s voice shouted, and it was vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place it.

“What the fuck is a Grounder doing with a gun?” another voice asked, sharp and filled with hate.

Clarke let the weapon fall from her hand and land in the snow at her feet as she ventured another step forward, turning her eyes up towards the wall. “Wait!” someone called, and she recognized that last voice. It was Bryan, Nathan Miller’s boyfriend. “That’s not a Grounder! That’s Clarke!”

“Clarke Griffin?” the woman’s voice asked, and she quickly placed it as Monty’s mother, Hannah.

“Y— Yes!” Clarke called, forcing herself to speak. “Yes, it’s me!”

“Open the gate!” she heard Bryan shout. “It’s not safe out there!”

She had to fight back the laughter that had built in her chest at the comment. She was more scared of them, her own people, in that moment than of the entire Ice Nation army that sat at her heals. A moment later the makeshift wooden door on their gate creaked open, and Clarke saw another familiar face step into view, coming towards her with his gun raised as if she was the enemy.

“Clarke Griffin,” he said as he neared her.

He was an older man, body built and toned with muscle beneath a tight fitting long sleeved shirt. His dark eyes darted around the clearing, obviously scanning for danger in preparation of an ambush, and his expression was one of shock and disbelief. His skin was a deep shade of brown and despite the snow and biting cold around them, he looked warm, almost as if he carried a fire with him burning hot with anger in his chest. She remembered the Earth Skills classes the council had required them to take before sending them down on the Drop Ship and how this man had stood at the front of the room, instructing them on how to make fires and set traps. It dawned on her then how the people of Farm Station had been able to survive so long in Ice Nation territory; they had had a master of survival with them. This man was Charles Pike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, soooooo that was a lot. First off, I hope you enjoy the playful banter between Lexa and Clarke, it's one of my favourite parts to write because Lexa is so incredibly raw and open in front of Clarke and it's great to see that sort of childish side of her. I also hope you enjoy the heat between them as well because it is only going to get hotter. And finally we get to see our antagonists make an appearance! Can anyone guess who the girl in Nia's tent was? She's gonna play a big part later. Next week we're going to see some of the delinquents and a bit of Arkadia and what they have been doing in Clarke's absence, so hopefully that will be enjoyable. See you guys next Friday! (for real this time).
> 
> -Alex
> 
> P.S. Special shout out to @jennibowderz for letting me run ideas off of her and listening to my constant rambling. And also for making me sit down and write when all I want to do is sleep. Thanks for being a constant source of inspiration!


	7. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up my gays (and not gays)! Happy Friday, everybody. Sooooo this update ended up being fucking long (nearly 17k) and covers a whole lot of different characters and emotions. We don't get to see too much of our fluffy Clexa scenes, but we do get to see what's been going on at Arkadia while Clarke has been gone. We also get to see a bit of badass Clarke Griffin, so that's always fun. This is mainly a chapter to advance the plot, so it is very information heavy and very conversation heavy. Have fun guys!
> 
> -Alex

Clarke followed Pike through the gates of their makeshift wall that encompassed what little remained of Farm Station like a protective shell. She couldn’t help but notice the way he kept his eyes trained on her the entire time, as if expecting her to betray them at any moment, and she couldn’t help but feel like somewhere in the shadows, there were guns trained on her as well. 

The portion of the Ark that had survived impact was buried deep within the snow, though Clarke could see into the dark depths of a hull and wondered how many people were within. Her eyes wandered around to the ramshackle tents and huts that had been erected from spare sheets of metal and tarps around the outside of the Ark, framing it like a courtyard, and she watched as tired and worn faces emerged to investigate the commotion.

The first thing she noticed were the terrified and defeated expressions the people wore, as if they had suffered immeasurable torture and were inevitably resigned to surrender. They were thin, cheeks sunken in and dull eyes gaunt against pale and clammy skin as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks and were incredibly malnourished. Some faces she recognized, looking at her with a glimmer of hope, while others she had never seen before, and even so, she was sure there were some she had seen but could no longer distinguish. They wore mismatched and weathered clothing as if they'd stripped the spare garments from their dead and used them to conserve heat against the harsh Ice Nation weather. These faces were staring at her now, expectantly and pleading, boring into her like she was the only person who could save them.

The feeling was overwhelming and she had to fight the urge to turn and run, to flee her responsibility that she never asked for and never wanted. Being in the midst of her people now, filled with so much agony and despair, reminded her of why she could not return to Camp Jaha. She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for the way they looked to her for leadership and always expected her to have a plan, and she wasn’t prepared for the responsibility that came with the weight of every decision she made. Suddenly, she found herself wishing that Lexa could be by her side to make the decisions for her and protect her from the burden of leadership.

"Pike, I—

She began but was cut off when Bryan descended from atop a nearby wall perch, storming her without hesitation. His long brown hair was matted and fell into his eyes and he looked skinnier than she had ever seen him before, but he appeared healthy nonetheless. An expression of hope painted his delicate features as he practically barreled into her, grasping her shoulders firmly in his hands. "Clarke," he gasped. "It is you."

Clarke cleared her throat, again aware that all eyes were on her and she tried her best to stand tall as he looked her up and down. She was painfully aware that she was dressed head to toe in Grounder attire and that these people were probably a mix between thoroughly confused and astonished at her seemingly random appearance. "Bryan, hi," she said. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Is Nathan alive?" he asked, ignoring pleasantries. There were tears gathering in the brown of his eyes and she could tell that he was terrified of the answer.

"Yes," Clarke replied quickly, wanting to end his agony. "Miller is alive." At least he was when she'd left camp nearly two weeks prior, though she knew the Grounders had not attacked Camp Jaha in that time, so he was likely still safe.

"And Monty?" A woman called, coming down off the wall in the direction Bryan had approached from. She was an older woman of Asian descent, her kind eyes were framed in weathered wrinkles of age and worry and her black hair fell down in wiry strands past her shoulders. She looked pale, even against the white snow, and Clarke recognized her as Hannah Greene, Monty's mother.

Clarke waited a moment, allowing her to grasp her hands, though her fingers felt more like ice. "Monty is fine," she said, reassuringly and watched as Hannah crumbled in relief, burrowing her head in Bryan's shoulder as if all the strength in her body had left her.

A chorus of voices began to ring out, inquiring about the fate of loved ones and the well-being of others. Some people wondered why the Council had not sent a search and rescue party for them, and others wondered why she had come alone. She waited patiently and answered as many questions as she possibly could, though she was confident that these people were not satisfied with her deliberately vague responses. When Charles Pike spoke, all other voices fell silent.

"What are you doing here, Clarke?" he asked, skeptically. His features were hard and he glared at her as if trying to read her thoughts, his gun still pointed subtly in her direction from where it rested atop his muscled arm.

The question resonated in her, highlighting just how hopeless these people must feel. “I’m with the Commander,” she said. “We’re going to take you guys to Camp Jaha. You’ll be safe there.”

A cacophony of whispers erupted around them, though Pike ignored them and pressed on, brown eyes looking too tired and too wary. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked. “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“Don’t trust her!” someone shouted from far away and Clarke could hear the anger in the voice, seething and vile.

“She’s even dressed like one of them!” another voice shouted.

“It’s a trap!” came another.

Clarke glanced around at the faces of the people, _her people_ , and saw them change from desperate and pleading to cold and angry. They didn’t trust her, and worse than that, it was obvious that they feared her. “What happened to you here?” she asked, afraid of the answer. 

“We crashed,” Pike stated, though that much she had already gathered. “And while we were still dragging our wounded from the wreckage, they attacked us. They’re wild and bloodthirsty,” he spat. “They don’t even speak our language. We defended ourselves the best we could with what little weapons we have and were able to fend them off long enough to get the wall up. 

We have rations and food supplies, but we’re almost out. Every time we send a hunting party beyond the wall, they come back with a few less or not at all. It’s been days since the last attack, but I think they’re just trying to starve us out now.”

Clarke knew better. “No, they haven’t attacked because Lexa, their Commander, told them to stand down,” she explained. “She wants to make peace.”

“Then why has it taken an entire month?” Pike growled, anger seething in his voice, fueled by the shouts and cheers from around him.

“We didn’t know you were here,” Clarke argued. “You landed in _Azgeda_ , the Ice Nation, territory. They seek to depose Lexa and they’ve been using you as pawns to try and do so.”

Pike scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up. “You mean to tell me that these _savages_ actually have a system of leadership?” he asked. 

“They’re not savages!” Clarke shot back, feeling herself grow angry. She couldn’t blame Pike for his hatred and reservations, it was obvious that they’d suffered a great deal, and she had once felt the same about the Grounders. That was before she went to Polis and before she actually took the time to know them and understand their culture. Before she got to know Lexa. “You just don’t know them. They’re not all bad,” she said, though she knew that it wasn’t something that he would just take her word for.

“And you do?” he retorted. “You know these Ice Nation people that have hunted us since the moment we touched ground?”

“I know Lexa,” Clarke said. Steel settled in her voice and she stood taller, making her spine rigid and her shoulders broad as she mustered the confidence of a leader. “She’s the leader of the Coalition of the Twelve Clans and she came here at great risk to herself to negotiate safe passage for _our_ people,” she elaborated, putting emphasis on the word ‘our’. Farm Station was still a part of _Skaikru_ and even if they didn’t know it yet, Clarke was their leader. The council that had ruled on the Ark had no jurisdiction on the ground, and there were no rules here, no law makers and peacekeepers. There were only those who died and those who survived: the strong, and the weak.

“Why would she do that? Where was she the last month we’ve spent freezing and fighting for our lives?” he asked, anger rising in his tone.

Clarke thought about the events of the past month; meeting Lexa, planning for battle, Mount Weather, and her downward spiral after. She also thought about the warmth and moments stolen in the dead of night and the tenderness of Lexa’s lips against hers in the soft dim light of a single candle. “We’ve had our own battles to fight this past month, Pike. We didn’t even know you were alive until a few days ago, and we came as soon as we could.”

Pike stared at her a moment, measuring the truth in her eyes. Clarke felt small beneath the stone gaze of this fuming man, but she steadied her nerves, feeling herself morph into the leader she knew she had to be. In this moment, she understood what it was like for Lexa to have to shift into the role of the Commander, and she allowed herself to switch into _Heda kom Skaikru_. She stood straight, her shoulders rigid as she held his gaze, daring him to challenge her motives.

“You speak of them, of this Commander, as if our people are one. There is no _‘we’_ , Clarke, there’s _us_ and there’s _them_ ,” he replied, his tone darkening.

“There doesn’t have to be,” Clarke retorted. “We can coexist. We can live together, survive together, in this world,” she said, not trying to hide the hope in her voice.

“How can we—

“Pike!” a voice shouted frantically from atop their wall. “Another one is approaching!”

Pike’s features fell and anger seethed behind his brown eyes as he let out a low growl, glaring at Clarke as if his stare alone could kill her. He turned away and ran towards the tower that overlooked the snowy field between the grounded station and the Ice Nation camp. Clarke could hardly register his actions as her heart leapt into her throat and her blood froze in her veins, colder than the nippy air that bit at her cheeks. She heard the clicking of bullets loading into chambers as metal rapped against metal and watched as half a dozen guns turned their barrels towards the approaching figure just outside the wall.

“Keep your guns on her!” she heard Pike shouting.

Before she could even think, Clarke was sprinting towards where two people were struggling to quickly close the gate that surrounded the broken and terrified people, ducking through the space just before it groaned shut behind her. She could hear her heart pounding in her eyes as she eyed Lexa approaching, arms outstretched in a show of surrender, and she barely registered Pike shouting her own name as she tore through the snow towards the Commander. All she could think about in that moment was putting her own body between Lexa and the guns that were nervously pointing her direction.

Lexa seemed to register the terrified expression on Clarke’s face and the urgency in which she was moving, and she held up, stopping dead in her tracks, green eyes shifting nervously towards the hidden gunners at the top of the wall. A second later, Clarke was barreling into her, shielding the Commander from view with her body and praying that her own people would hesitate before putting bullets in the back of one of their own. They did not embrace, but simply stood there, breathing the same air and sharing the same minimal space between their bodies as their gazes met in a clash of panicked blue and stoic green.

“Lexa, what are you doing here?” Clarke breathed, placing her hands on the Commander’s shoulders and glancing nervously backwards. The shouts from the wall had grown silent as if the danger that lurked there was holding its breath in anticipation, stalking them from a distance the way a predator stalks its prey.

Lexa’s eyes fell from Clarke’s scanning her body up and down, looking for any signs of damage, and then filling with relief when she found none there. “They fired at you,” she whispered. “I was worried.”

The admission rolled off Lexa’s lips before she could contain it but she didn’t move to take it back, letting it hang between them like a sacred vow. “You shouldn’t be here,” Clarke replied, now looking past Lexa’s shoulders to see if her guard or any of the Ice Nation warriors deigned to follow. “They’re scared. It’s not safe.”

“It is no more dangerous for me than it is for you, Clarke,” she answered, her features falling impassive. Clarke could tell there would be no arguing on the subject, no sending Lexa back the way she had come.

She sighed, turning towards the wall but still angling her body between the guns and Lexa at her back. “Pike!” she called. “This is Commander Lexa.”

They waited in the silence that ensued, each second that ticked by felt like an eternity beneath the barrels of guns they could not see. Clarke felt Lexa shift behind her, attempting to pull herself away from where Clarke was using herself as a human shield. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t even move.”

Lexa stilled once again, the reality of the danger she had put herself in settling over them both and Clarke felt the faintest hint of Lexa’s hand on her hip, lending her warmth and reassurance. A moment later, the gate in front of them creaked open and they watched as Pike emerged from the slim protection the makeshift walls offered. His gun was pointed in their direction and his expression was hard, almost angry as he approached. He eyed Lexa where she stood behind Clarke, measuring her from head to toe as if sizing her up for a fight.

“Pike, was it?” Lexa asked, gently stepping around Clarke who quickly clutched at her sleeve in protest but missed as the fabric slipped through her frozen fingers. 

The Commander held her spine rigid and her shoulders stiff, clasping her hands behind her back to show that she meant no harm and was at ease in his presence. Her green eyes remained focused on the man before them, blaring beneath her black war paint, her red cape sprawling out behind her, crimson against the snow. An air of ancient wisdom radiated off of her, pulsing in the space around them, and Clarke remembered what it had been like to meet her for the first time as she watched Pike’s expression falter. Lexa’s presence was like staring into the depths of the universe; infinite, captivating, commanding and humbling all at once, and she knew that one couldn’t help but feel small beneath her penetrating gaze.

Pike cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he closed the distance between them, stopping a few feet away. “You’re the Commander?” he asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. For all her power and all her strength, Lexa was young, and to anyone who didn’t know her, it would appear as if the Grounders were being led by a child. Clarke knew that Lexa would quickly rectify Pike’s first glance impression; she had stood in his shoes once.

Lexa ignored his question and got right down to business as she pressed on. “It appears that I owe you and your people an apology,” she said, surprising them both. “Though I know condolences cannot replace those you’ve lost. Had I known of your presence here, I would have stopped the _Azgeda_ advances far sooner.”

Pike faltered at this as if her eloquence surprised him. He had been under the impression that the Grounders could not even speak English, and here Lexa was, offering her regrets for the actions of her people. He blinked the disbelief from his eyes and cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Clarke tells me you have come to negotiate safe passage for my people,” he said.

“Clarke speaks the truth,” Lexa replied, holding her chin high. “The Ice Nation queen has agreed to let your people pass.”

Pike glanced back and forth between the two women in front of him, eyeing them each with speculation. A moment later, he lowered his gun and breathed a heavy sigh. “How can I trust you?” he asked, though his voice was rimmed with exhaustion and defeat, as if somewhere in the back of his mind he had already surrendered the fight.

“I do not ask you to trust me,” the Commander answered. “You may place your trust in Clarke. My people view her as the leader of yours.”

“Pike,” Clarke said, breaking her silence. If Lexa presented her as a leader, then it was up to her to act as such. “We don’t have another option.”

“These people are depending on me, Clarke,” he growled, cracking under the weight of his own leadership. “I have kept them alive for a month, I will not see them killed because I placed my faith in the wrong people.”

“ _Our_ people,” Clarke corrected, “Are starving. They’re cold and suffering and barely holding on. We need to get them out of here.”

Pike stepped forward, closing the space between them and staring down at her with a gaze that could melt every last bit of the snow around them. “If we leave and walk into an ambush, it will be on you,” he snapped.

Lexa pushed forward, standing tall at Clarke’s side as her green eyes went dagger sharp. “Then stay here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You can either trust Clarke and follow her to the safety of Camp Jaha, or you can stay here and freeze or starve to death. When I am gone, I cannot stop Ice Nation from their advances if you choose to remain in their territory. The choice is yours,” she finished, daring him to challenge her words.

Silence fell around them as the tension built thick in the air in the space between Lexa’s glowing eyes and Pike’s smoldering gaze. The clouds above them broke as fresh snow began to drift down around them, whirling in the biting wind and pricking against their flesh where it stuck and melted to water. A shiver visibly wracked through Pike’s body as the breeze nipped at the thin layer of clothes separating his skin from the harsh elements. A moment later he sighed, letting his shoulders fall.

“Okay, Clarke,” he whispered, resigned. “Take us home.”  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Once again, Lexa had been one step ahead of even Clarke, planning for their two-day journey from Ice Nation back to Camp Jaha. The members of her guard had carried enough supplies with them on their initial trek to support the extra numbers of _Skaikru_ members that had joined them on their return. Once they had made it out of _Azgeda_ territory, the guard relaxed quite a bit, even allowing a few of the Sky People who were injured or worse for ware to ride their steeds in order to keep pace with the rest of the group. They had trudged on slowly but steadily through the harsh weather of Ice Nation until snow gave way to frost and frost gave way forest. 

Clarke and Lexa rode side by side at the back of the pack of people, watching over them protectively with silent understanding that they would not be safe until they were behind the walls of Camp Jaha with the rest of the Sky People. Indra rode at the front of the group, guiding them through the rough terrain at a pace that the malnourished and weary members of Farm Station could keep up with. Clarke noticed that each of the Grounder warriors kept their eyes trained on the trees at all times, Lexa included, as if expecting some hidden threat to jump into view and attack at any moment. 

No threat ever came; in fact the most danger they faced was Pike’s gun constantly yet discreetly trained on Lexa, ready to take out the Commander at the first hint of betrayal. The notion made Clarke uneasy and she knew that Lexa, ever diligent, was aware of the lurking threat, though she did not mention nor acknowledge it. She looked relaxed and unbothered atop her saddle, green eyes flashing the same color as the woods around them beneath a thick layer of war paint. Her posture was rigid and she let her right hand rest atop the hilt of the sword at her hip, but it was more an automatic reaction rather than a defensive position. More than a few times Clarke tried to shift her hose between Pike and the gun he had pointed at the Commander, but he always adjusted his gait so that he could maintain a clear shot.

However, the further they got from the Ice Nation army, the more relaxed the unyielding man seemed to grow until eventually he lowered the gun altogether. They finally stopped to set up camp when the sun had begun to dip in the western sky, arching a gentle orange across the tops of the lush green pine trees. The ice that crunched beneath their feet had turned to slush before giving way to dirt and underbrush. The air was still bitter cold and the breeze pinched sharply at their cheeks, but despite the frigid weather, the people were in high spirits. Being free of Ice Nation and the shadow of death that they had lived under the last month thawed the tensions in the air and the feeling of relief swept over them like a warm blanket, warming the atmosphere around them.

That atmosphere was made warmer still as Lexa’s guard built a massive bonfire at the center of the makeshift camp they had constructed. They carried with them enough supplies to erect a circle of tents around the bonfire at the middle of the clearing they’d settled in. A deer roasted on a spit over the fire, filling the air with the scent of cooked meat and laughter as the people talked amongst themselves, eyes alight with joy at the sight of the meal. Clarke knew it was likely the first warm meal they’d had in ages, and it did wonders for the morale of the group. The canvas tents they’d constructed would sleep up to ten, and for the first time in a month, Clarke’s people would go to bed in warmth, with full stomachs and the knowledge that they would be protected through the night.

Despite the light-hearted feeling in the air and the relief that glowed on faces in the bright halo of light cast by the bonfire, the Commander was still on edge. She dispatched a group of her guards to patrol and keep watch through the night and Pike, unwilling to relinquish all control, had sent members of Farm Station on patrol with them. The Grounder warriors that remained behind in the clearing stood around the bonfire with the Sky People, talking and sharing stories of their cultures and traditions and sharing a meal that the Grounders had caught, prepared, and willingly given to the starving mouths of a people not their own. 

The scene was a wonder to behold, and Clarke found herself holding her breath, waiting for it to dissipate or turn to chaos before her eyes. She stood beside Lexa, doing everything in her power not to openly take the Commander’s hand in her own and cling to her as if this moment was sacred and fleeting. “We can exist together,” Clarke whispered, awe settling faintly in her voice.

“Too much hatred stems from misunderstanding, Clarke,” Lexa replied, green eyes dancing in the light of the bonfire as if the forest that lived within them was ablaze.

Clarke glanced over at her, heart instantly coming to a complete stop in her chest as she took in the expression of uninhibited bliss on the Commander’s face as she watched their two people living together as one. This was the vision of peace that Lexa held so dear to her heart and the future that she aimed desperately to achieve for her people. This scene is what made all of her sacrifices worth it, and she would give every single ounce of herself so that the children of generations to come could grow up in a world where they knew no threat of war. In that moment, Clarke would have given every single ounce of herself just to see that same expression on Lexa’s face each and every day.

“Maybe there’s hope for our people after all,” Clarke mused, watching as a Grounder warrior gave his rations to a member of _Skaikru_ that was staring longingly for more.

Lexa turned her gaze towards Clarke, earth reaching out and finding the sky, as an expression of wistful longing crossed her elegant features. “There is hope for us, Clarke,” she breathed so softly that it sounded more like a solemn, pleading prayer. 

There was a promise hidden in her words, masked by fear and doubt and years upon years of self-sacrifice. There was a promise that maybe some day there would come a time when they could put their feelings before the needs of their people. Maybe some day, they would no longer have to sacrifice themselves or each other for the greater good. Maybe some day, they could be together without fear of being torn apart. It was a thought that sent a shiver through Clarke’s entire body and had her knees shaking with want and blood pounding with need.

“Maybe some day you—

“Commander,” Pike said, cutting her off as he approached. “Clarke,” he regarded her a moment later. His brown eyes were hard as he glanced between the two of them, his broad shoulders square and he looked as if he was brooding, getting ready to pick a fight.

What he did next surprised all three of them. Even Lexa’s impassive features momentarily flicked to ones of disbelief before settling back into the stoic picture of grace and strength. Pike held out his hand and clasped the Commander’s forearm, offering her a gentle yet sincere smile that looked almost forced on the cynical man’s face. Lexa took his hand in her own and held it firmly, a mutual sign of respect in the Grounder culture, though Clarke knew the man was offering it as a gesture of peace and gratitude. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice low enough so that only the three of them could hear. “Both of you,” he added, throwing a nod in Clarke’s direction. Clarke felt a slight wave of indignation in the way he regarded Lexa so respectfully while simultaneously undermining and disregarding the danger Clarke had put herself in to secure the safety of their people.

Lexa must have picked up on the twitch of anger flashing in Clarke’s eyes because she spoke quickly. “You only owe thanks to Clarke. We would not have been able to negotiate safe passage without her.”

Clarke tried not to laugh at that. It had been Lexa who’d done all the talking in Nia’s tent, maneuvering the situation with wisdom far beyond her years while Clarke stood there trying to muster enough courage to speak on behalf of her people. “The Commander took a great risk coming to our aid like this,” Clarke said, shifting the attention away from herself.

“You both did,” Pike interjected. “And I owe you both my gratitude. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

“Hopefully our two people can move forward from this…altercation, and work towards a lasting peace,” Lexa replied, her tone one of utmost and sincerity. It was a tone that commanded attention and respect and was not given unless she truly meant the words behind it. 

He nodded once and turned away, stopping before he could go too far as he called over his shoulder, “Your father would be proud of you, Clarke.”

She watched as he took a bit of the roasted deer from a Grounder and then disappeared into the flaps of one of the tents, leaving them alone again. Clarke turned to Lexa, wanting to continue the conversation that had been interrupted before, feeling the overwhelming need to divulge her inner thoughts, but she was startled when she saw the fall in the Commander’s demeanor. Lexa no longer looked on at the scene before them with hope and pride, but with an expression of worry and Clarke swore she could see a bit of fear flashing deep within the green of her eyes. It sent a wave of unsettling nerves through her bones, trembling in her muscles and shaking her down to the core.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, breaking the silence.

The Commander gave her a sidelong glance, letting whatever emotions she’d been displaying on her face fall away to impassiveness once again. “All is well, Clarke,” she replied, voice curt and polite, if not just a bit strained.

Clarke let out an exasperated sigh. “Lexa, you can’t hide behind your walls with me. I know you. I’ve seen you. Now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Lexa arched a perfect brow in her direction, the shadows of the bonfire dancing playfully across her high cut cheekbones. She opened her mouth to speak, but then let it fall shut again before shaking her head once as if silently disagreeing with the internal argument that had been going on in her head. “I fear our actions at _Azgeda_ may have served to set in motion events that are far beyond our control, Clarke,” she admitted, letting her gaze fall away.

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked. She could see the stress in the way Lexa held herself and the tension in her posture as she clenched her jaw back and forth in thought. It was unnerving. 

“We are on the precipice of change, Clarke,” she whispered. “Our people are walking the thin line between peace and war, and I believe we just served to tip the balance in the wrong direction.”

“You think Nia will push for war?”

“I think war is what Nia has wanted since the moment I allowed _Azgeda_ into the Coalition,” Lexa replied. “We made her look weak in her own territory. We challenged her rule within the borders of her own nation. She will not let these offenses go without retaliation.”

Clarke’s blood ran cold and she found herself yearning for the warmth and safety of Lexa’s arms, but she did not go to them. “Will she challenge you?” 

Lexa nodded once, solemnly. “I believe she will. But it is not my own safety that I fear for, Clarke. Nia will seek retaliation on _Skaikru_. With you as their leader, by my side, she knows that she will never win the Sky People to her cause. Her next move will be to wipe your people out before you can attempt to defend yourselves with the technology in Mount Weather,” she explained.

“She’ll march on Camp Jaha?” Clarke asked, feeling a disheartening chill snake quickly down her spine.

“Pike and his men killed Ice Nation warriors in their own territory. She may have granted them safe passage having no other choice at the time, but she will not let their actions go forgotten. _Jus drein Jus daun_ has always been the way of our people. She will want vengeance and claim it under the guise of justice.”

“Will the council not stop her?” Clarke questioned, letting her fear take control of her emotions. “Can you not stop her?”

The Commander brought her eyes to meet Clarke’s again, the forests in them swimming with sincerity. “I fear I have already done too much to stop her, Clarke,” Lexa answered, her voice barely more than a whisper. “The council was torn before I left. I believe she will use our actions in Ice Nation to convince them that I have begun to put the Sky People before my own.”

“But Indra’s scouts can attest that _Azgeda_ attacked first,” Clarke argued.

“They can. But I think it will matter little. War is brewing, Clarke. It has been long before your arrival. It will be upon us soon,” Lexa sighed, defeat ringing loudly in her voice despite the hushed tone in which she spoke. It was a stark contrast to the peace they had been discussing only moments before and Clarke was startled at how quickly peace could give way to war.

“What do we do, Lexa?” she found herself asking. “How do we stop this?”

Lexa’s shoulders went stiff as steely resolved settled in her voice. “I do not have the answer, Clarke,” she admitted. “But I intend to find one.”

With that, the Commander turned on her heal, red cape billowing out behind her as she ducked into her tent, leaving Clarke to decide whether or not she would like to follow. Suddenly, the feeling of hope that had washed over her as she watched their two people coexisting as one turned into something that felt a lot like despair.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke was not ready to go back to Camp Jaha. She was not ready for the burden of leadership and the crushing weight that came with each decision. She wasn’t ready for the way her people looked to her for answers that she didn’t have, or the way they accused her when she failed. She wasn’t prepared for the guilt and the pain she knew would swallow her whole at the sight of the faces she’d saved in Mount Weather. She wasn’t ready for the ghosts of her decisions to haunt her again and for the suffocating sensation that came each and every time she set foot within those metal walls.

Yet, as the soft yellow sun crawled up over the forest, her feet drew her nearer to all the things she’d been dreading most. She had been safe in Polis with Lexa, and for the brief time they’d spent there, she had begun to heal. Lexa had mended the gaping hole in her soul left behind after Mount Weather, and without ever having intended to, had helped Clarke to forgive herself. Lexa had somehow lifted the weight of each death that Clarke carried on her shoulders and replaced it with a feeling of hope and joy and a happiness that she had never thought to feel again. But now, with every step, her shoulders seemed to grow heavy again.

Lexa picked up on her trepidation, and Clarke wondered how it was that she was able to read her emotions so well, or if she was just transparent. “Breathe, Clarke,” she whispered, placing her hand atop Clarke’s thigh as their horses trotted easily towards the tree line in front of them.

Clarke knew that beyond the edge of the forest ahead of them, her people were waiting: her mother, Bellamy, Raven, Octavia, Lincoln, _Skaikru_. “I’m fine,” she replied through a forced smile.

“You do not have to go in if you are not ready,” Lexa assured her, seeing past her disguise.

“My mother will want to see me,” Clarke sighed. “My friends will want an explanation. I’ll need to tell them what happened and where I’ve been.”

“Perhaps my warriors and I should wait here and allow your people some time…” she suggested, trailing off.

Clarke shook her head quickly, alarmed at the thought of having to face her people without Lexa by her side. She would need all the strength she could get, and the Commander seemed to lend it to her in torrents. “No. I want you there when I try to explain to them about Ice Nation. They need to know that they’re not safe here anymore.”

“Clarke,” Lexa began, the rare hint of nerves skittering across her features. “After Mount Weather, I doubt your people will be too keen to see me. My presence here will be unwelcome.”

“Well they’re going to have to move past that,” Clarke shot back. “We need you to help us figure out our next moves. I need you.”

Lexa’s eyes flicked from Clarke’s, down to her lips, and back up again and Clarke could tell that she was fighting the urge to lean in and close the space between them. “I think maybe we need each other, Clarke,” she whispered instead, letting the words hang in the air as their small band of refugees and warriors pushed through the final row of trees.

Camp Jaha had grown, sprawling out far larger than Clarke remembered; only it wasn’t exactly Camp Jaha anymore. From a distance, Clarke could see the sign over the entrance that had once read ‘ _Camp Jaha_ ’ had been replaced with a new sign that boasted the single word ‘ _Arkadia_ ’. The makeshift fencing that surrounded the Ark encampment before she left was now a more permanent structure, built from sturdy metal panels and sporting guard towers along with what looked like electric wiring; Raven’s innovations no doubt. She couldn’t see much beyond the new wall, but along the outside of the fence, the open field had been tilled and crops had been planted, though nothing yet grew from the churned up ground. The morning sun was high over head, glowing brightly off the metal structure of the downed ship and Clarke thought that shining steel monstrosity looked entirely out of place in the middle of the lush green forest.

As they approached, she heard alarmed shouts from atop the guard towers and beyond the wall, but they were quickly replaced by ones of excitement, and then shouts of confusion. She imagined that the guards on duty were elated to see familiar faces of people that they had thought they’d lost amongst the approaching crowd, but they were probably also fearful of the band of Grounder warriors that road with them. When they were close enough, she heard her own name being shouted, along with that of the Commander’s.

They came to a halt in front of the gates and waited. Through them, Clarke could see people sprinting about barking orders, and a crowd gathering to greet their arrivals. A moment later, the gates creaked open and chaos ensued as people rushed into the arms of their missing loved ones and long lost friends. Clarke was aware of the guns trained on Lexa and the Grounder warriors that had accompanied them to the gates, though the Commander had ordered Titus and most of the guard to remain behind in the trees as a measure of trying not to startle the Sky People. She’d given Indra an option of remaining behind, but the _Trikru_ general had agreed to escort them, claiming that she wanted to ensure Lexa’s safety, though Clarke figured it was because she wanted to see Octavia.

Clarke slid off her horse and watched as Monty emerged from the crowd and sprinted into the arms of his mother, Hannah, both lost to tears and whispering words of comfort as they embraced. She glanced over and saw Miller bending to plant a kiss on Bryan’s lips, each of them framing each other’s faces with trembling hands, shaking their heads in disbelief. All around them, people cried, laughed, embraced, and shouted with joy at the return of loved ones whom they thought were long since lost. It was a heart-warming sight, but Clarke’s heart skipped a beat in her chest the moment she saw Abby Griffin pushing her way through the crowd towards her daughter.

A second later, Abby was barreling into her, enveloping Clarke in a tight embrace and breathing words of relief into her ear. “Clarke,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I was so worried.”

Clarke returned the pressure of her embrace and for a minute let herself lean into the arms of her mother. Things between them had been strained after Clarke discovered the truth of her father’s death and then again as her mother fought her on every decision she’d made since the rest of the Ark touched ground. But in that moment, she allowed her mother to hold her, drawing strength from the green eyes she’d locked onto over Abby’s shoulder. Lexa stared at the exchange, a wry smile tugging at the side of her mouth, her gaze never leaving Clarke’s.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Clarke answered, drawing herself slightly away.

“Where have you been?” Abby asked, placing her hands on Clarke’s shoulders and looking her up and down as if scanning her body for signs of physical injury. “What happened?” she questioned. “How did you find Pike and Farm Station?”  
The questions were coming all to quickly and Clarke feared that she would not have the answers her mother was willing to hear. For the first time, Abby seemed to notice Lexa looking on at their interaction and her expression fell to something much darker. “What is _she_ doing here?” she snapped, not attempting to hide the disdain in her voice.

Before Clarke could form a response, she saw more familiar faces push to the front of the crowd, rushing in her direction. Bellamy sprinted towards her and scooped her into his massive frame, his chest warm against her cheek where she listened to the sound of his heart pounding quickly. He picked her up and swung her in a few fast circles before setting her back on her feet. “As happy as I am to see you, what the hell did you do, Clarke?” he asked, sweeping his arm in a general motion towards the crowd around them as his shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes.

“Uh—

Clarke began, but was again cut off as Raven all but shoved Bellamy out of the way as she folded herself into Clarke’s arms. Clarke noticed she was limping much more tenderly than she had been before Mount Weather and she felt an instant shot of guilt that she hadn’t even said goodbye. Raven had risked her life in Mount Weather to ensure the success of their plan before everything went to shit. In more ways than one, they wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for her, and Clarke had lost track of all the times that the brilliant girl’s ingenuity had saved their lives.

“What the hell is going on, Princess?” Raven asked, eyeing Lexa with a look that could shoot daggers and bullets at the same time.

“Why is the Commander here?” Bellamy questioned.

“Clarke, where have you been?” her mother continued, the questions bombarding her until she felt as if she was about to explode from the pressure of them.

“Everyone just shut up!” she snapped, unable to take it anymore. She stepped away from the group and glared at them with enough vigor to make their questions freeze on their lips. “Just give me a minute!”

Lexa could see the anger and fear flush Clarke’s cheeks and she shifted forward, seemingly bringing the entire group to a silent halt. “Clarke?” she asked gently, arching her brow.

She knew that the Commander was offering her an out, but now it was much too late to take it. “I’m fine,” Clarke replied. “I’m fine. Can we just go inside and talk about this calmly please?” she asked, addressing her mother now.

Abby eyed Lexa wearily, not attempting to hide the displeasure and distrust from her gaze. “Clarke—

“She’s coming with me,” Clarke snapped, putting an end to her mother’s protests before they could begin.

Abby glanced between the two of them, watching them curiously as Lexa held her spine rigid and her stance formal, while Clarke seemed to shift her body to protect her. “Fine,” she agreed, her chest deflating.

Clarke, without even thinking, grabbed Lexa’s hand and pulled her through the gates, pushing through the crowd and glaring at anyone who deigned to look at them the wrong way. She was aware of all the eyes on her, all of the judging glances being thrown in her direction, all of the people gawking at the Commander and what remained of her guard with hatred and fear. She felt her friends and her mother at her back, followed by Indra and a few of the warriors from their party, each staying within arms-distance of the Commander in case danger should arise. She felt the warmth of the hand in her own as Lexa gave it a reassuring squeeze before gently pulling it from her grasp.

“Sorry,” Clarke offered, low enough for only Lexa to hear. She was too upset and far too flustered to even notice the tinge of red flushing her cheeks.

“Breathe, Clarke,” Lexa reminded her as they freed themselves from the swelling crowd.

Inside the walls of Arkadia, Clarke took notice of even more changes since her departure three weeks prior. An outdoor dining area had been set up to the left of the entrance, metal tables reflecting the mid-morning sun beneath a slotted wooden canopy. They were surrounded by rows of tilled dirt, the green stalks of tiny plants just barely poking to life as they sprawled towards the sky, searching for warmth and light. Various tents had been erected around the courtyard, and Clarke assumed that the sleeping arrangements within the Ark were rather confined, so people had taken to spreading out behind the safety of the walls. There was a bonfire pit at the center of it all, surrounded by heavy wooden logs that were clearly for sitting, though not a single person lingered about the yard in that moment as all the commotion at the gate continued on.

Clarke glanced behind her to be sure that her mother and friends were following and saw that Pike had joined them as well, lingering towards the back of the pack. In front of them, Marcus Kane emerged from the dark doorway that led into the Ark, followed closely by Octavia and Lincoln. Kane’s facial expression briefly registered shock and then confusion before falling back to something more grim. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but Clarke knew that he had been one to advocate on behalf of peace with the Grounders, so perhaps he was not disappointed or angered by their appearance here now.

Octavia’s gorgeous features were plastered white at the sight of Indra at the center of the pack of people approaching. Clarke knew that their relationship had landed on rocky ground the night that Octavia had chosen to defy orders from her mentor at Mount Weather. Indra had commanded that they retreat, following the orders Lexa had given, but Octavia remained behind to ensure the safety of her friends and her brother who were trapped inside the mountain. Clarke didn’t want to think about what may have happened if Octavia had left with Indra that night. Unfortunately, her decision to stay had cost her the person whom she had come to value most aside from her boyfriend.

Lincoln’s naturally dark complexion was plastered nearly as pale as his girlfriend’s as he caught sight of the Commander. Lexa had placed a kill order on his head when he chose to remain behind and help the Sky People while the rest of the Grounders retreated into the night. He hadn’t done so lightly, knowing that it would mean exile from his people, but his love and loyalty to Octavia had driven his actions and he stood by them now as he squared he stance and held his broad shoulders straight. Lexa’s expression remained impassive as she eyed him curiously, though Clarke caught the slight nod of respect that she cast in his direction. 

“Clarke?” Kane questioned as she approached. “Commander,” he regarded Lexa with a nod, attempting to show respect, though his tone was still apprehensive.

“Kane,” Clarke answered but didn’t loiter in the doorway with him, instead pushing past with the simple knowledge that he would follow. She did not want to linger in the courtyard where the eyes of her people were heavy and blaring on her back; it set her nerves on fire and left her blood boiling.

She led the group down a narrow hallway, the sharp fluorescent lights pricking her eyes and the sound of a mechanical whir ringing loudly in her ears. They were sensations that she had grown used to on the Ark, but after months on the ground and weeks in Polis, the sights and sounds were now foreign to her. Lexa looked out of place amongst the metal hallways and the technology that pulled the doors open automatically in front of them, her thick furs and layers of leather and straps contrasting with the sleek shining walls. She glanced at Clarke, trying to hide her nerves and discomfort under a mask of calm, but Clarke could see right through her seemingly impassive features.

They entered a large room reserved for council meetings, each of the people they’d gathered along the way following them in until the room was crowded and bustling. Voices were ringing off the walls, echoing loudly against the cold steel of the ship as each person attempted to make themselves heard. Kane and Abby stood at the head of a table, facing Clarke and Lexa and glaring at them expectantly while Octavia and Lincoln lingered nearest the door, eyeing Indra nervously where she stood stoically beside her Commander. Raven and Bellamy huddled close together in the corner of the room and Clarke watched skeptically as their hands seemed to brush far too often to be casual. Pike entered last, shutting the door behind him as he strode to stand at the table, keeping a relative distance from everyone.

“Enough!” Clarke yelled, doing her best to channel her inner Commander. She spared a glance at Lexa beside her and saw her nod in approval. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you need to just listen.”

The room fell silent and all eyes turned to her. “Clarke, what the hell is going on?” Abby asked, inserting her voice into the quiet air.

“Farm Station was trapped in Ice Nation,” Clarke began, starting with the most easily approachable topic that had been fired in her direction. “ _Azgeda_ had them pinned down.”

Angry glares shifted towards Lexa, fuming with enough collective heat to thaw even the coldest of winters. “You allowed our people to be held captive for a month in spite of your so-called peace treaty?” Kane asked, directing his question towards the Commander, his tone one of disbelief and anger.

Lexa opened her mouth to explain, but it was Clarke who spoke instead, instantly feeling the need to defend her. “She didn’t know,” Clarke answered, trying her best to remain calm beneath the accusatory stares of her comrades.

“Come on, Clarke, you don’t actually believe that do you?” Bellamy questioned. He stood in the corner of the room, unsure if his presence was required in the situation, but unwilling to miss the action nonetheless. Clarke noticed that his face was pale and there were dark bags beneath his eyes and she wondered if he, too, suffered from the same night terrors that plagued her dreams.

“Yes,” Clarke snapped. “I do. And Pike and his people would be dead if not for her actions.”

“We’re lucky we’re all not dead because of her actions,” Bellamy mumbled though still loud enough for everyone to hear. Clarke could feel Lexa tense beside her and she knew that the Commander was not accustomed to being so openly insulted, and in any other circumstance, she would not have accepted it.

“Bellamy, please,” Kane said, holding up his hand in an attempt to keep things civil. “Let them tell us what happened.”

Pike cleared his throat, drawing attention towards himself. “If I may,” he began, speaking on behalf of Farm Station. “When the Ark came down we were coming in too quickly, we missed our landing zone, and somehow we ended up too far north of here,” he explained. “We lost a lot of people in the crash. Some were injured, but those of us who made it out were met with resistance almost instantly. They attacked us that first night and cut our remaining numbers nearly in half before we got to the gun supply and were able to defend ourselves. The casualties were….” Pike trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

“Is that what you people do?” Raven asked, directing her question at Lexa, again putting the Commander in the spotlight, though Lexa had yet to speak. “Just attack anything that is foreign to you? Kill whoever you want?”

Clarke knew that she was speaking of Finn. Raven held Lexa responsible for his death without taking into account Finn’s own actions that had led to it. “The same could be asked of your people,” Lexa replied, arching an eyebrow in Raven’s direction. Her tone was cold and even, begging to be challenged.

“Us?” Raven shot back, her voice rising. “Your people have been attacking us since we landed, we—

“Enough!” Clarke shouted, cutting her off. “Just shut up for a minute and listen!” She knew that her words were harsh and that her unease at being back in Camp Jaha— Arkadia— whatever the hell it was now— was getting the best of her emotions.

“Pike, what happened next?” Octavia asked, speaking up for the first time. She had always identified more with the Grounders than her own people, and Clarke knew that she wouldn’t be quick to judge. Indra gave her an appreciatory nod as Pike picked up his story where he’d left off.

“We built a wall and managed to hold them off. We had food stores on the Ark and enough ammo to last us the month, but every time we sent a party out for supplies, they would come back with a few less people or not at all. We were nearly out of food, even with rationing, when Clarke and the Commander showed up,” he explained.

Clarke didn’t miss the big question mark glances being shot in her direction from her friends and her mother, but she bypassed them for the time being in order to elaborate on Pike’s story. “Lexa and I rode out to Ice Nation to negotiate safe passage for Pike and his people with the Ice Queen,” she said, leaving it at that. She didn’t know how to explain that she had been with Lexa, in the forest, then in TonDC, and then in Polis, for the past few weeks.

“You didn’t know Farm Station had crashed in Ice Nation?” Kane asked, directing his question at Lexa. “This entire time, even while we were working together to get our people out of Mount Weather, you didn’t know?”

“No,” Lexa answered plainly, meeting his gaze with her own unwavering glare.

Raven snorted from her position in the corner of the room with Bellamy. “That’s some bullshit.”

Indra whirled around on her, her expression burning with anger, her deep brown eyes lit and smoldering under a furrowed brow. “Are you accusing the Commander of lying?” she asked, incredulous, fists clenching against her leather bracers.

“Actually, yes,” Raven replied, squaring her shoulders in defiance.

Indra took a step towards the girl but halted when Bellamy shifted into her path, pushing Raven behind his broad body protectively. His muscular frame all but shielded the girl from view and he clenched his jaw, brown eyes seething and daring her to take another step. Clarke watched the exchange in utter horror and disbelief, ashamed and embarrassed that her friends were acting so childishly, but at the same time, she couldn’t really blame them. The Grounders, Lexa and Indra in particular, had betrayed their trust and left them to die in Mount Weather, and Clarke could see why they would be skeptical and angry. She knew there was much more to it than that, and she would do her best to explain, though now wasn’t the time.

She opened her mouth to stop the altercation, but Lexa beat her to it, grabbing Indra by the wrist and speaking firmly. “ _Em plenty, Indra_!” she commanded in _Trigedasleng_.

The warrior ceased her advances and let her shoulders fall, giving Lexa a single nod before shifting back into place beside her. Clarke shot Bellamy a dangerous glare, narrowing her eyes and willing him to just calm down. After a moment he gave her a reluctant nod and relaxed his stance, though he wrapped his arm across Raven’s shoulders protectively and pulled her in to his side. She leaned into him, resting her head on his bicep and wrapping her arm around his waist, her proximity to the boy seeming to ease her nerves. Something was definitely going on between the two of them.

“Okay,” Abby said, redirecting the conversation. “Suppose that you didn’t know about Farm Station this entire time, why help them now?” she asked.

Lexa’s green eyes met Abby’s across the table and Clarke saw the simple truth resonating within them. “For peace,” the Commander replied. “And because I owed it to your people.”

“You owed it to us to stand by our side at Mount Weather,” Octavia interjected from her position near the doorway. Lincoln’s facial expression wavered, if only for a moment, before falling impassive again.

“It’s a little more complicated than that, O,” Clarke spoke.

“Why do you keep defending her?” Bellamy questioned. 

Clarke felt her cheeks go hot and her eyes shift to Lexa and then back up again as she tried to formulate an appropriate response. How could she tell them all that she and Lexa were…whatever they were at the moment? How could she explain to them that Lexa was the only person on the planet who understood her pain and made her feel whole again? How could she expect them to understand that Lexa was the one person who would never judge her or blame her for her actions? She just couldn’t find the words for it.

It was Pike who spoke up, saving her from the internal argument that was raging in her mind. “Look,” he said. “I don’t know what happened with you people at Mount Weather. I don’t know who betrayed who or what the circumstances were. But what I do know is that all of Farm Station, myself included, would be dead right now if not for Clarke and the Commander.”

The people in the room exchanged glances, each of them searching for reasons to deny the simple truth or excuses to further protest, but none spoke. “We have bigger problems,” Clarke said, finally breaking the silence. She looked to Lexa beside her and gave her a slight nod, urging her to speak.

“ _Azgeda_ ,” Lexa said, voice loud enough for all to hear though she kept her eyes trained on Clarke as if drawing strength from her.

“What about them?” Kane asked.

“There is dissension amongst my people,” Lexa carried on, forcing the words to come to her. Clarke knew that to admit weakness was a grievous offense among the Grounder culture, and it pained the Commander to do so now. “Ice Nation defies my orders. I fear they aim to start a war.”

Abby and Kane exchanged a sideways glance with each other, as if communicating with words unspoken. “A war against you?” Abby asked.

“Against all of us,” Clarke said. “Pike and his people killed Ice Nation warriors. They will seek revenge.”

“Maybe we can negotiate with them then,” Kane suggested, though his tone dropped off at the glare he received from Indra.

“These people will not negotiate,” Pike replied.

Lexa nodded her agreement solemnly. “In Nia’s eyes, the death of her warriors went unpunished when I intervened and freed your people. She will look for retribution against _Skaikru_ and against me. If she does not, she will appear weak to her people and to the council.”

“Can’t you just order her to stand down?” Bellamy questioned.

“I did,” Lexa replied. “That is how you come to find us here now. She will not be told twice.”

“But you’re the Commander of the Coalition. Does she not have to respect your orders?” Kane asked.

Lexa sighed and turned towards Indra, searching for help in her right-hand warrior. “The Coalition is a fragile thing, Kane,” Indra said. “Lexa is the first Commander to ever unite all twelve clans, and even so, there are some who would seek to remove her from power.”

“So you put _us_ in the middle of _your_ power struggle?” Abby asked, disbelief in her tone. Clarke had to refrain from jumping to Lexa’s aid again; she knew that this was a matter that only the Commander had a right to speak on.

“Not intentionally,” Lexa replied. “It is unfortunate that your Farm Station landed in Ice Nation territory. Nia’s thirst for power complicates the situation, and she seeks to use it towards her advantage. She will act.”

Clarke nodded her agreement though she could see the confusion in her mother’s eyes. “Her army will march on Arkadia, Mom,” she stated bluntly. “And she will try to convince other clan leaders to support her. There is only so much Lexa can do to stop it. Even going to _Azgeda_ was putting her life at risk.”

“If they march on us, we can defend ourselves,” Bellamy growled, his tone darkening at the threat.

“No,” Lincoln said, finally speaking up. His voice was soft, but resolute. “Even with the guns that Arkadia possesses, you would stand no chance of defending yourselves against Ice Nation’s army. They number in the thousands.”

Indra cleared her throat, again meeting Kane’s gaze. “The Ice Queen will seek to enlist the help of other clans as well, despite the Commander’s orders. She will try to split the Coalition.”

“Why would they follow her?” Octavia asked, addressing her former mentor.

“Because they believe _Skaikru_ is a threat,” Indra answered. “They have not forgotten the three hundred warriors you burned alive at your drop ship. They have seen what your technology can do, what your guns can do, and they fear you for it.”

The room fell silent, each of them letting the news sink in deep, before Abby spoke again. “Then why not let them? Why not let them destroy us and spare your clans a war?” she asked, looking directly at Lexa. It was a valid question. Protecting her people, sacrificing anything to do so, was engrained in the Commander’s very nature.

Lexa was quiet for a moment, her jaw clenching and unclenching in the way that Clarke knew she was chewing over her thoughts. “I would be lying to you if I said that I have not considered this,” she admitted. “But I cannot stand by and let your people die for the mistakes of my own. I’ve done it once and I will not do it again.”

“You didn’t hesitate the first time,” Abby snapped, her tone sharp.

“She didn’t have a choice, Mom,” Clarke said, no longer able to control the need to come to Lexa’s aid. “Every decision she makes can potentially lead to her death. She chose what was best for her people, and having done otherwise would have gotten her killed.” There was more to it than that, but the eyes of her friends boring into her like needles had her words dropping off.

“So why now?” Abby probed. “Why risk your life, your leadership, your Coalition, now?”

Lexa spared another glance in Clarke’s direction, her expression softening so slightly that only she could see the change on the Commander’s features. She would risk anything for Clarke, is what she would have said if they were alone. Instead, she spoke, “Nia will always seek a way to split to Coalition, to fuel a civil war so that she may end any who seek to oppose her, and I would rather fight her threat with you by my side than sit back and watch your people die.”

“So you want another alliance?” Raven scoffed, skeptically.

“An alliance will not keep Nia from marching on Arkadia,” Lincoln answered her skepticism with realism. 

“What will?” Kane asked, looking to Lexa again and then to Clarke. “What are our options?”

“That’s the thing,” Clarke said. “We don’t have any.”

Again silence settled around them, but it was short-lived as Lexa spoke with a calm resolution that only she could muster in the face of scrutiny and overwhelming danger. “There may be one option,” she ventured to say.

The individuals within the room looked at her expectantly as Clarke tried to decipher exactly which gears were turning in the Commander’s head. “What is it?” she asked, reading hesitation in Lexa’s gaze.

She sucked in a breath, as if bracing herself for a storm she knew would come. “ _Skaikru_ can join the Coalition,” she said. “Become the thirteenth clan.”

The silent room erupted into an orchestra of voices, each trying to climb over the other to be heard, some of protest and some of question, but all of which were too loud to decipher. “Shut up!” Clarke yelled for what she felt was the umpteenth time that day. “Everyone just calm down!”

“Enough!” Kane shouted, his voice rising above the rest. “Let the Commander finish.”

Lexa nodded her thanks to him once before continuing after the noise finally fell to hushed tones. “If _Skaikru_ is the thirteenth clan, Nia cannot attack without directly attacking the Coalition. The ambassadors will not stand for it.”

“Heda, are you sure we should not consult the _Fleimkepa_ and the council on this first?”

“It is the only way, Indra,” Lexa cut her off before she could voice any more of her concerns.

“Say we do join the Coalition,” Bellamy said. “Then what? We have to follow your orders?” he asked, his tone suggesting that he’d rather die by Ice Nation’s swords than have to obey Lexa’s rule.

“The Commander allows each clan its own system of government,” Indra snapped. “Matters of war are decided amongst the ambassadors of the council in which Lexa precedes over.”

The words sunk in for a moment before Clarke felt the need to add her thoughts. “It would open up our options for trade as well,” she said. “We would have access to Polis and the people of the clans can teach us to farm and hunt. We would be able to sustain ourselves without fear of running out of food, and we would be protected.”

“And what do you expect from us in return?” Kane asked.

“Your loyalty,” Lexa responded without hesitation. “Stand with me, together, if it should come to it.”

Again, glances were exchanged, each person wearing a silent question on their faces as they pondered the proposition. Octavia and Lincoln stared intently, neither showing their approval or distaste of the plan, but remaining nearly impassive as Lexa herself. Pike looked on, nodding his head in agreement, and Clarke was surprised that he would be so willing to align with Grounders after the hell that _Azgeda_ put him through; then again, she could see his desire for revenge. Bellamy and Raven wore matching grim expressions, their mouths pressed in single straight lines, though they no longer voiced their protests. Abby and Kane looked back and forth from each other and then to Lexa and Clarke, again as if communicating in some unspoken language.

“I don’t think we have much of an option here,” Abby whispered, dejectedly. “But, I do have a request.”

“What is it?” Clarke asked.

“Mount Weather,” she answered plainly. “With the addition of Farm Station, Arkadia will be needing supplies. Mount Weather has enough food and resources to last for years. We can also use the medical supplies in there. It can save the lives of countless people,” Abby explained, pleading to Lexa’s rationale.

The Commander nodded once. “And the weapons?” she asked, the worry evident in her eyes but hidden from her voice and impassive features.

“From what you’re saying, it sounds like we will be needing them,” Kane replied.

Again, Lexa nodded and silence fell over them like a blanket. “Very well,” she breathed, almost as if it pained her to say. Clarke knew how the Grounders felt about technology and guns, but she was also aware that Lexa would rather have the technology with her than against her. “I will leave you to think it over this evening,” she said, turning to leave.

Clarke grasped her wrist, drawing her gaze before she could get too far and their eyes met as they exchanged silent pleads. “We will make camp outside of the walls, Clarke,” Lexa assured her. What she was really saying was, ‘I’ll be right outside, Clarke.’

Clarke gave her a single nod, resisting the urge to pull her in and kiss her breathless. Instead, she let her grip on Lexa’s wrist fall away as the Commander swept out of the room with Indra on her heels. Octavia spared a quick questioning glance in Clarke’s direction before turning and following the two Grounder leaders, eager to have words with her former mentor, Lincoln following closely behind. After the door swung shut, the silence continued to grow, sweeping through the room like a thick layer of fog.

Again, all eyes fell to Clarke, and she shifted nervously beneath their weight, clearing her throat before glancing up at the ceiling. “So,” she said, letting the single syllable hang in the air.

Abby let her palms slap on the table as she sighed heavily. “Would you guys give me a few minutes alone with my daughter?” she asked, though it was a command more than a question and she waited patiently as each person filed out of the room. When they were alone, she turned her hardened expression in Clarke’s direction, holding her gaze for what felt like an eternity before her features softened. “So,” she breathed. “Where have you been, Clarke?”

Clarke tried not to let herself smile, finding the way her mother cared about her well-being before all else endearing. This was the question she’d been dreading, and one for which she didn’t know how to answer without giving too much away, though she feared she may have already. “I just…needed some space,” she replied, stating the truth. “I needed time to heal. To find myself again.”

“And did you?” her mother asked.

“Bits of me. Pieces that I didn’t know were missing and some that I didn’t even know I needed,” Clarke admitted, thinking of green eyes, soft lips and tender kisses in the endless hours of the night.

Abby stared at her a moment, arching her eyebrow skeptically and searching for something within her daughter’s features. “And you and Lexa?” she asked.

Clarke felt her stomach twist in knots, flipping in on itself and churning over. “What about me and Lexa?” she retorted, trying to play it cool.

“Where did you run into her again?” Abby questioned. “Did you seek her out after Mount Weather?”

“She found me,” Clarke replied. “She brought me to Polis.”

“Polis?”

“The Grounder capital. Mom, it’s unlike anything you have ever seen. You would be amazed by it. I think it would change the way you think of the Grounder culture,” she said, echoing Lexa’s words to her at Mount Weather.

Abby sighed. “So that’s where you’ve been this whole time? You left without a word, didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and went on some sabbatical with the Grounder Princess that left us to die?”

Clarke felt her cheeks flush at the accusatory tone in her mother’s voice and struggled to control the anger she knew was flaring up beneath her flesh. “Yes,” she growled, choking her distain back.

“Clarke, how can you trust her?” Abby probed. “How can you expect us to trust her?”

“You don’t even know her,” Clarke shot back. “You don’t know the pressure she’s under.”

“That’s just it, Clarke!” her mom said. “That girl holds the weight of the world on her shoulders. How do you know she isn’t going to break beneath it?” 

“Because I know Lexa,” Clarke answered, lowering her tone and forcing calm over her voice. “What she’s offering us, joining the coalition, it’s the right move.”

Abby sighed again, pushing the loose strands of hair off her forehead. “How do we know that she won’t betray us again? How can we be sure?”

“Look,” Clarke snapped, sucking in a deep breath to rein control of her emotions. “I’m not asking you to trust her, and I don’t expect you to trust her, not yet at least. But, I am asking you to trust me.”

“Clarke, I—

“Mom. Please. Just trust me,” Clarke pleaded, begging her mother to hear the sincerity in her voice.

Abby had to glance away, unable to meet the unrelenting gaze of her daughter whose eyes looks so much like her late husband’s. She was quiet for what felt like eternity as she mulled over the proposition, eyes landing everywhere around the room as she sorted through the mess in her head. “Okay,” Abby finally whispered. “I’ll talk to Kane and see how he feels about it.”

“Thank you,” Clarke sighed, feeling relief flood her voice. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, threading through some lingering tangles before glancing back at Abby again.

Her mother was staring at her, a quizzical expression on her face as her soft brown eyes darted over her daughter from head to toe. “You look different, Clarke,” she said after a moment. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but you look different somehow. More mature. Maybe it’s just the Grounder attire.”

“People can come a long way in just a few weeks,” she replied, thinking of how far she and Lexa had come.

Abby stepped forward and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, taking in her entire appearance once more before pulling her in to a tight embrace. Clarke didn’t hesitate to return the pressure, though the hug felt stiff, almost exploratory and she could tell that her mother was harboring questions that she’d been withholding. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Abby whispered, her breath warm on Clarke’s ear.

Clarke hardened and pulled away almost instantly as a wave of guilt wracked through her. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother that she wasn’t actually back, at least not for good, not in the sense that Abby wanted her to be. She wasn’t ready to be in Arkadia permanently, around the people who looked to her for answers and crucified her for her decisions. She wasn’t ready to leave Polis and all the life and light it brought to her world, and whether she would admit it to herself or not, she wasn’t ready to leave Lexa.

“Can we talk about this later?” Clarke asked. “I think my friends will murder someone if they don’t get a chance to interrogate me soon,” she joked, trying to keep the mood light. She would have to tell her mom that she wasn’t planning on staying, but not yet.

“Sure, hon,” she smiled. “I’ll come find you later. Kane and I will have our answer for the Commander in the morning.”

Clarke returned her smile and followed her out of the room to where Raven and Bellamy were waiting for her in the hallway. They were huddled close together, Bellamy leaning against the sleek metal wall on his right elbow, his left hand wrapped possessively around Raven’s waist as she rested her head on his chest. Clarke noticed the way she kept the weight off of her injured leg and leaned solely on Bellamy for support as she breathed in his scent. His eyes were soft and his normally hard expression was tender as he mumbled gently in her ear. Raven wore an expression of peace on her face, her eyes closed, her hands running soothing patterns down Bellamy’s back. They looked happy together, and Clarke could tell that they were the calm in each other’s storm, much like she and Lexa.

“So I guess I missed this happening,” Clarke said as she walked up, using her hands in a general encompassing motion of the happy couple in front of her.

“Yeah, you tend to miss a lot when you disappear for weeks without a word, Princess,” Bellamy retorted, though his tone was not angry, yet not quite playful.

Raven looked up from her spot on Bellamy’s chest and pulled herself from the comfort of his arms, straightening her posture. “I would ask where you’ve been, but I think that much is obvious,” she stated.

“I’ve been in Polis,” Clarke replied, knowing that hiding the truth would only serve to delay the inevitable.

“With Lexa?” Bellamy asked.

“Clearly,” Raven answered his question before Clarke could get a word in edgewise.

“Yes,” she nodded. “With Lexa.”

Bellamy looked as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Why?” he asked.

“I think that’s obvious too,” Raven snorted sarcastically. 

“Raven,” Clarke cautioned.

“Oh please, Clarke. It’s so obvious that you two are fucking,” she said, her voice somewhere between humor and disgust.

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “What?” he spat.

“We’re not fucking!” Clarke snapped, looking around to see if any bystanders were eavesdropping on their conversations. 

“But you are seeing each other?” Raven asked.

Clarke groaned in frustration, rolling her eyes and pushing her hand through her hair again. She didn’t want to lie to her friends and there was no point in even trying now. “I don’t know what we are,” Clarke admitted truthfully. They hadn’t put a label on their relationship or even talked about their feelings towards each other aside from physical touches and longing glances. “Right now, she’s just making me feel whole again. And I think I do the same for her. The burdens we have to carry are a lot less heavy when we carry them together.”

Her friends were silent for a moment before Raven let out a sarcastic scoff. “I knew it,” she said. “How can you do that, Clarke? How can you be with her after all she’s done?” she questioned. “After Mount Weather? After Finn?”

“Lexa does what she has to do for her people,” Clarke defended. “She makes sacrifices so that they don’t have to.”

“Oh, so she left us to die in Mount Weather for her people?” Bellamy questioned, his tone sharp.

“Yes,” Clarke answered, her tone equally as lethal. “She freed her people and ended the threat that had terrorized them for a hundred years without bloodshed. I am not saying I agree with it, but I do understand it.”

“She sacrificed us, Clarke!” Bellamy snapped. “She sacrificed you!”

Clarke felt herself growing more bitter by the second and again struggled to maintain control of her emotions. Being back in Arkadia was not healthy for her. “She sacrificed a few of our people to save hundreds of her own,” she replied. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I wouldn’t have betrayed the people who helped me get there,” he replied.

“Bullshit,” Clarke stated. “You sacrificed Maya and the people that helped you in Mount Weather to save our people. You pulled that lever with me and sacrificed them for our own. Our actions were no different than Lexa’s.”

“And I pay for it every single day!” Bellamy growled. “Every time I close my eyes!”

“Lexa pays for it too!” Clarke responded. “Every death and every decision she has ever made weighs down on her. Think of your own pain and your own actions before you judge someone else’s” she scolded, daring him to challenge her. “The things we’ve done are not so different from her. Some are worse.”

“Like what?” Raven shot, her cheeks flushed red with anger.

Clarke glared at her, doing all that she could not to yell. “Like torturing an innocent man or burning three hundred people alive,” she said to Raven. “Or hanging an innocent boy from a tree and letting three hundred people suffocate to death for fear of retribution,” she continued on to Bellamy. “Or letting a bomb drop on an entire village and exposing three hundred people to radiation,” she finished, turning her speculations inward. “We are all guilty of something.”

“And what about Finn?” Raven asked, her voice was hard and fresh pools of tears pricked at her brown eyes. “Did she kill Finn for the good of her people?”

“Lexa didn’t kill Finn,” Clarke answered. “Finn killed himself.”

“How can you say that?” she asked, her tone rising.

“Because it’s true,” Clarke replied, though she didn’t mean for her voice to sound so cold. “Lexa ordered his death and I held the knife, but Finn killed himself when he slaughtered a village full of innocent people. If it had been one of their people that killed a village full of ours, we would have demanded the same punishment.”

Raven looked as if she’d been slapped in the face, all the color draining from her cheeks as tears spilled down them and fell over her chin in heavy drops. She let out a shaky breath, unable to form words as she clenched and unclenched her fists and Clarke could tell that she was on the brink of a meltdown. Bellamy reached out to comfort her, but Raven ripped her hand away from his, shooting him a glare that could melt icebergs. She whirled around, her deep brown hair flipping over her shoulder as she started down the hallway, her limp heavy in her stride.

“Raven!” Clarke called, starting after her.

“Let her go,” Bellamy said, placing a gentle hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “She just needs some space and some time to process. She’ll be fine after she’s cooled off.”

Clarke sighed and let her shoulders relax under the weight of Bellamy’s hand. “Look,” she said. “I wasn’t saying those things to be harsh.”

“I know,” Bellamy replied. “You may be stubborn as hell, Princess, but at least you’re honest.”

“This thing with Lexa and me—

Clarke began, but he cut her off. “You don’t have to explain,” he started. “It’s like you said before; I don’t necessarily agree with it, but I understand it.”

“Thank you,” Clarke replied, not knowing what else to say. She was surprised at how easily his anger had deflated.

Bellamy gave her a slight shrug and a half smile before motioning down a hallway in the opposite direction that Raven had fled. “Walk with me,” he said, already moving.

Clarke fell into stride beside him and she remembered how easy it was to open up and talk to him, even if he didn’t understand her feelings the same way that Lexa did. “I tried to hate her at first you know,” she said, allowing the conversation to continue. “But I think deep down I was really hating myself.”

“I know,” Bellamy answered, his eyes troubled. “I felt the same way right after…after what we did. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Clarke felt a familiar wave of guilt shoot through her. Bellamy had been at her side when they pulled the lever in Mount Weather, together, and she had left him to deal with the aftermath alone while her own world imploded. She hadn’t stopped to think that his world might be crumbling around him too. She’d been so wrapped up in her own pain and her own self-loathing that she hadn’t realized that perhaps he was suffocating beneath the weight of their decisions just as much as she was.

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with that alone,” Clarke whispered, meeting his gaze and willing him to hear the truth in her words. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”

He nodded though forced himself to look away. “How did you move past it?” he asked.

“I didn’t so much move past it,” she admitted. “But Lexa pulled me through it. She helped me realize that we all make sacrifices for the people we love. She helped me see that even through all the death and guilt and horrible things we’ve done, there is still beauty and life in this world too.”

Bellamy made a noise in agreement as if he understood exactly what she meant. “Raven did the same thing for me. She was there when you weren’t and eventually I felt like I could start to breathe again. Day by day it got easier, and I could eat again, and when she’s around I can actually sleep…when she lets me.” He laughed.

Clarke found herself smiling at that. “I’m happy that you’re happy,” she replied. “You two are good together.”

They wandered through the halls as they talked, idly nodding to people who called Clarke’s names or gave her quick pats on the back. “Are you happy?” he asked her. “I mean, does she make you happy?”

“Yes,” Clarke replied without hesitation. “She does. And she makes me feel safe. Like she would do anything to protect me.”

“Ah,” Bellamy mused as they wandered. “So I guess your relationship probably had something to do with her offering us a place in the Coalition?”

“No, actually that was news to me,” Clarke replied. “She didn’t tell me about that plan at all.”

He looked surprised at that and Clarke wanted to tell him that she felt the same. “So, she genuinely wants to protect our people? Or is there an ulterior motive?”

“Lexa wants peace,” Clarke stated. “She wants a world in which all people can coexist and work together to survive rather than fighting to destroy one another. Nia will always be a threat to that vision.”

“Oh, “ was all he had to say, mulling the thoughts over in his head. “She’s different than I thought she would be.”

“Me too,” Clarke laughed and she felt it reach all the way to her eyes.

“You care about her,” Bellamy said, and it was a simple statement.

“Yes,” Clarke replied, feeling the familiarity in the conversation. It was one she’d had a few times before. “Lexa is special.”

He didn’t reply but simply watched her out the corner of his eye as they wandered. Their pace was easy and Clarke felt herself relaxing despite the hum of machinery and the constant weight of eyes bearing down on her as they walked. She could tell the people had questions, curious about the new arrivals and the small heard of Grounders stationed outside their front gates, but she did not have the answers to provide them. She hadn’t missed the advanced technology or the call to leadership, but instead found herself missing the simplicity of falling in to Lexa’s arms. She missed the life and light and joy of Polis, even though she’d only been gone a few days, and longed to go back.

Their aimless wandering came to a halt in front of a holding cell and Clarke was surprised to see a man inside. He was sitting in the corner of the empty room, rocking himself back and forth and appearing as if engaged in a full conversation with the empty air in front of him. His skin was a dark shade of brown, the same color as his eyes, though they looked far away, and his black hair was cropped short atop his head. He spoke to himself, rambling on and on in words that Clarke couldn’t hear, then after a moment he shifted down onto his knees, sitting back on his ankles as he closed his eyes and appeared to drift away.

“Is that Jaha?” Clarke asked, placing the familiar face in front of her. He looked different, as if the weeks on earth had not been kind to him, and she attributed part of his appearance to the loss of his son, Wells.

Bellamy’s expression fell as he nodded once. “He showed up here a few days back going on and on about some invisible bitch in a red dress and how there’s no pain in his magical city of lights or whatever. Then he started trying to feed people little hunks of plastic claiming it was some sort of key and that’s when Abby decided to lock him up,” he explained.

“Oh,” Clarke breathed, unsure how to react to the news. “Losing Wells must have broken him.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Pretty sure he’s just batshit crazy, Clarke.” 

They lingered around the detention cell for a few moments longer, but the man inside never stirred and Clarke sighed, shaking her head once before walking away. She hadn’t realized their trip around the station had killed so much time, but when they returned to their initial starting point, they found Abby waiting for them outside the conference room holding a tray of food. 

“Mom?” Clarke asked as they approached.

“Hey,” she smiled. “Bellamy, would you mind if I had dinner with my daughter?” she asked.

“Sure.” Bellamy smiled, nodding to them both before sauntering off in the direction Raven had fled earlier. Clarke would have to find her and try to talk to her at some point.

For now, she motioned for her mother to lead the way and followed her into the council room they’d been in earlier, this time actually taking a seat at the table across from Abby. Clarke noticed that the food on the tray consisted of a few glasses of water and some sort of fire-roasted meat that smelled fresh as the juices pooled around it on the plate, signaling to Clarke that it was likely from a recent kill. Lexa’s guard party had been out hunting again no doubt, bringing back a bounty to provide for the Sky People. She wondered if the Grounders were out in the courtyard at the moment, sharing food and stories and laughing with her people as they had been the night before.

She yearned to get up and go search for Lexa, feeling an emptiness in her heart at not knowing exactly where she was and what she was doing at that moment. Instead she gave her mother a wry smile and took a bite of the meat, tasting every bit as wonderful as it smelled as the flavor burst in her mouth. She washed it down with a few swigs of water, and then looked up at Abby expectantly.

“Lexa’s warriors went hunting,” Abby explained, as if reading Clarke’s thoughts.

“I figured,” Clarke replied. “They’ll teach our people how if we become part of the Coalition.”

“You really believe that this is the best way?” the doctor asked.

Clarke nodded without hesitation. “It’s the only way, Mom,” she said. “I can’t expect you to understand, but if you’d seen the Ice Nation army, if you’d been in that room with Nia, you’d get it.”

“Pike told me about the Ice Nation army. He said you and Lexa both took a great risk in going there,” her mother replied.

“You don’t know the half of it…” Clarke began, but let her words trail off. She didn’t quite know how to tell her mother that Ice Nation had a bounty on her head. That wasn’t really a topic to be broached at the dinner table.

“I don’t think I want to know,” Abby answered, her features flashing briefly with worry. “I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

_Home_. It was funny hearing that word. Clarke didn’t think of Camp Jaha—Arkadia— as home anymore. Instead, the word conjured images of bustling city streets, alive with vendors and the scents of roasting meats. It procured thoughts of hazy sunrises and deep sunsets overlooking a city below, the warmth of fire still radiating across her back. It induced heated images of soft lips against her own, green eyes, lush furs and smooth, tangled limbs, in the comfort of a single glowing candle.

“I’m not staying,” Clarke found herself saying before she had a chance to soften the words.

Abby’s fork clashed down on her plate as her eyes shot up to meet Clarke’s. “What?” she practically choked out.

“I can’t stay, Mom,” Clarke said tenderly. “I just don’t think I’m ready to be back here yet. I don’t know if I want to be,” she admitted.

Her mother glared at her, scanning her up and down as if trying to see through her to the other side. Clarke thought she might explode, or scream or yell, or at least show some semblance of negative emotion, but instead, all she did was sigh. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with Lexa?” Abby asked.

“What do you mean?” Clarke felt her heart skip a beat.

“Clarke, I’m your mother,” Abby arched a brow at her. “And I’m not blind, and I’m definitely not stupid.”

“Mom, I—

“I see the way you look at her,” Abby continued. “Like she’s the brightest thing in the room. And I see the way she holds herself when she’s near you, like she’d take on the world if it so much as looked at you wrong.”

Clarke cleared her throat and shifted her eyes away nervously, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. She was waiting for the yelling to start. “Oh,” was the only syllable she could muster.

Her mother simply stared at her wearing a slight frown on her face and the coolness of her reaction was deeply unsettling. “How long has that been going on?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Always,” Clarke mused, surprised at the truth in the single word. “There’s always been something there. But we only acted on it just recently.” Clarke waited again as Abby mulled over the revelation, holding her breath for the disapproval that she knew would come like a slap to the face.

“Clarke, that girl…” Abby trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the thoughts circling her head. “She carries death with her. She has seen and done things that no other person should ever have to bear witness to. You can see it in her eyes and in the way she holds herself.”

Clarke had to stifle a laugh. Here her mother was, telling her that Lexa carried death, and to the Grounders, Clarke commanded it. _Heda_ and _Wanheda_ : what a pair they made. “You think the things I’ve done have been any easier?” she asked.

“It’s different—

Abby began, but Clarke held up her hand in protest, quickly cutting her off. “How is it any different? How is sacrificing the lives of three hundred people to save forty-two of my own any different from the things Lexa has done?” she asked, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. The discerning expression her mother was shooting in her direction was stirring all manner of unpleasant emotions deep within the pit of Clarke’s stomach, and she could feel her insides twisting.

“That girl carries an entire civilization on her back, Clarke. She will always put her people before you, and you will always end up hurt or abandoned just like you did at Mount Weather. She’s not good for you, Clarke,” Abby said, her tone was hard though her voice remained soft.

Clarke stood up, slamming her fist into the table. She’d had enough judgments and enough accusations for one day, exhausted by the constant need for her friends and family to tear down the one person who made her feel whole. “If you haven’t noticed, Mom,” she began, her voice steel. “I carry our civilization on my back. My decisions are what save our people and I am the one who has to live with them. And yeah, you’re right, Lexa will always put her people first, and that’s because she’s selfless,” she huffed. “She’s the most selfless person I have ever met, and she would die for every single one of her people. She puts their needs before her own, she sacrifices her happiness for theirs, and she lives her life for them. Yes, that may lead to me getting hurt, but to be honest, the way she loves her people is the reason why I lo—

Clarke stopped herself short of saying the one word that terrified her. She hadn’t meant for her words to become so heated, so passionate, but the way her people had been attacking Lexa all day had pushed her to the brink. She took a breath, struggling to gain control of the emotions that were coursing through her blood like fire and pounding heavy in her veins. She looked up and found Abby staring at her wide-eyed, a look of utter shock plastered on her normally serene features, and suddenly Clarke felt as if the walls were closing in around her. She pushed back from the table, whirling around to leave before her mother caught her wrist, holding her back.

“Clarke, I—

“No,” Clarke said, yanking her hand away. She all but sprinted to the doorway, no longer able to stand the stifling air in the room and the crushing weight of her mother’s disappointed gaze. “For the record,” Clarke called when she reached the doorway. “You may think she’s not good for me, but she’s the only reason that I’m even alive right now,” she spat. “So you should thank her for that.”

With that, Clarke fled from the room, rushing through the cramped metal halls with their whirring wires and harsh lights that felt like burns on her skin and buzzing in her ears. She was practically sprinting as she burst out into the night air in search of the girl whose four-letter name suddenly conjured a very different four-letter word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, sooooo what'd everyone think? Not really what we expected from Pike, right? I just felt like his character in the show was written so poorly and he unfortunately fell into that gross tropey mess, so I decided to fix that. Also, I am quite happy to say that the brief shot of Jaha we got was the only bit we will see of him and that stupid ALIE shit because, well, fuck Jason. So, now that the Coalition is on the brink of war, we can expect a lot from the Nia and Lexa feud going forward and I can't wait to write it. Also, I really enjoyed protective girlfriend Clarke this chapter and hope you guys did too. See you next week!
> 
> -Alex


	8. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay gays, I mean guys,  
> In leu of this weeks events, I decided to post this one early so that we can all enjoy a little bit of good news after some shitty, awful, horrible news. I had someone last week mention that they wanted Clarke to rip into the Sky People a bit more for criticizing Lexa and her actions, so I went ahead and played a bit with that. We also get to see a look at another antagonist pretty quickly here, as well as some more Titus. This chapter gives us some wistful Clexa moments as well as some great moments between Octavia and Clarke, and I really wanted to delve into that following the election this week. I made some pretty bold statements here that encompass the problems our characters struggle with and the struggles of the real world, and I hope that isn't lost within the story. Enjoy guys, and see you after.
> 
> -Alex

Clarke stormed into the courtyard, instantly sucking in a deep breath to rid her lungs of the stifling air that seemed to suffocate the life out of her within the Ark. She slowed her pace, leaning against the metal framework of the ship as she tried to lower her heart rate, feeling as if it could beat right out of her chest. Her mind was a jumble of emotions, mixing and brewing like a hurricane, building and building within her, churning and begging to break free. She held back her panic knowing that she could ease the storm in her heart, but there was one emotion in particular that made her head spin and her knees weak and as hard as she tried to shove it away, she knew that it was real. And it was growing.

Her feet moved on instinct towards the entrance to Arkadia, guiding her forward as if pulled by some invisible magnetic force, tugging her in the direction that produced the emotion she couldn’t fight. She looked up from her daze, catching sight of the scene around her. The Arkers and Grounders mingled and mixed together once again, sharing a meal in the light of a massive bonfire at the center of the courtyard. Her people looked unsure and uneasy, but content nonetheless with full bellies and the company of long lost loved ones. 

The addition of several more guards than necessary did not escape Clarke’s notice, and she could see that they clutched their guns nervously, but kept them trained on the ground and away from the people who had not yet posed a threat. If the Grounders took any notice of the extra measure of security, they didn’t show it, and although they were outnumbered and outgunned, they maintained their presence within the camp as if to show the Sky People that they meant no harm and in turn were not afraid. She knew that Lexa had ordered them to do so.

Across the bonfire, she caught sight of Octavia, sitting on a log and speaking in hushed tones to her former mentor. Lincoln was on her other side, though he appeared as if he was ignoring the conversation, allowing the women to hash out whatever feelings they’d been harboring. Indra’s eyes were hard and her posture stiff next to the Sky Girl, but she leaned into Octavia whispering words into her ear that had Octavia’s green eyes glowing with admiration and fondness. Clarke had always felt like Bellamy’s younger sister belonged more to the Grounders than the Sky People, and it warmed her heart to see her rekindling her relationship with the woman that she idolized.

Beyond the gate, Clarke could see where the Grounders had set up their tents for the evening just outside of the metal wall that surrounded Arkadia. The gates stood open, as if welcoming the outsiders, though she was sure the only thing they were welcoming at the moment was a warm meal. There was a ring of tents, the largest of which was in the center, and she knew that it was the Commander’s mobile quarters. She glanced around, hoping to see Lexa, green eyes beckoning, but instead her gaze fell upon a boy that had shuffled between her and the gate.

He was a scrawny looking teenager, all bones and gangly limbs and no meat or muscle, as if he hadn’t quite finished puberty yet. His brown hair had been shaved off since last she saw him and his dark eyes glared at her, framed in deep black circles as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hands were shaking, clenching and unclenching into fists, and he stumbled forward as if too drunk to keep himself upright. His skin was pale and clammy and it was clear that he was sweating, yet shivering against the cold at the same time. Clarke felt an instant wave of grief and had to choke back the ball of fear and sorrow that had welled in the back of her throat.

“Well look who it is,” the boy slurred, clearly intoxicated. “The Angel of Death herself.”

“Jasper,” Clarke whispered, freezing in her tracks. She felt the urgent need to shift her hand to the gun at her belt, as if her body was reacting purely out of fear, but she fought it.

“That’s what they call you, you know, Clarke? The Grounders, they call you the Angel of Death.” He laughed and it sounded forced, bordering maniacal. “They’re not wrong!”

Clarke didn’t have it in her to correct him, and she wasn’t sure if he actually cared. She knew that the boy was hurting and she knew that she was solely responsible for his hurt. She remembered the way he cried as he held his dying girlfriend in his arms, watching as her skin melted and her lungs turned to ash in her chest, struggling to breathe her last breaths. Maya’s death was just one of the three hundred that were on her hands from the night she pulled that lever in Mount Weather. Her death was one that still haunted Clarke’s dreams, plaguing her sleep like a life-threatening parasite. It was one that she had not forgotten.

“Jasper, you’re drunk,” she stated, ignoring his patronizing comments.

He laughed again. “Yes, yes I am, Clarke. You know why that is?” he questioned, but didn’t give her time to respond. “Oh, yeah! It’s because you killed the one person on this planet that I cared about!”

She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t intentionally killed Maya, though she knew the girl would die when she pulled that lever. “I’m sorry,” Clarke choked out behind a sob, feeling tears pricking at the back of her eyes. “I did what I had to do to save our people.”

“Bullshit!” he spat. “You did it because that’s what you do, Clarke. You kill people.”

She sighed and tried to push past him, eager to get away and get into he arms of the person who understood that some sacrifices must be made to save the people that matter most. He grabbed her wrist and she was surprised at the force in which his hand clamped around her arm like a vice, yanking her back. “Let go of me,” she growled under her breath.

His burning grip didn’t waver as they stood there, side by side, but facing opposite directions. His voice was deadly calm when he spoke, “Do you know what it’s like to watch the person you love die?” he asked.

She wanted to say yes. She’d watched Finn die and she watched Wells die and she had watched her father die, though she knew the love she had for each of them was nothing compared to what she felt for Lexa. “I didn’t have another choice, Jasper,” she whispered instead, unable to meet his gaze that she felt boring in to the side of her head.

“One day, you will feel what I’m feeling right now, and I can’t wait to sit there and watch how the mighty fall,” he whispered, his voice low as it rumbled in his chest. 

Her heart leapt into her throat and she could smell the alcohol sour on his breath as he breathed his threat into her ear. The thought of losing Lexa was enough to pull the tears from her eyes and she felt them slide slowly down her cheeks as if intentionally defying her will. Her blood pounded behind her eyes and heavy in her ears and she wondered if he could hear how loudly her heart was thumping as her breaths came to her in labored draws. 

“Clarke?” a familiar voice called, as if thinking about her had somehow summoned her from the darkness. “Is everything okay?”

Lexa appeared in front of them, stepping through the gate and moving pointedly in their direction. Her posture was tense, shoulders rigid, and her hand gripped the hilt of her sword, knuckles white as she strode towards them. Her green eyes were blazing with emerald heat and her supple lips were pressed into a firm line, though Clarke could see her jaw clenching behind her mask of calm. The way she carried herself was threatening and soothing all at once, as if trying to defuse the situation, yet ready to cleave the boy’s head off if he so much as flinched the wrong way.

Clarke felt an instant rush of relief as she yanked her arm from Jasper’s grasp, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “It’s fine,” she choked out, stepping away from Jasper who seemed frozen in place.

She could feel her heart rate climbing down to normal levels as she reached the Commander’s side and did not resist as Lexa placed her hand on her lower back and guided her away from the boy. She could feel Jasper’s eyes on them as they strode towards the gate, putting distance behind them as quickly as possible. Clarke wanted to get as far away from him as she could, fearful of all the emotions that he brought to the surface. Being in his presence was like being back at Mount Weather, staring into the dark and empty hatch and hearing the ghosts of the past shouting her name, reaching out to pull her in.

She didn’t miss it when he called from behind her. “We all have a choice, Clarke!” he said. “You made the wrong one.”

Anything he could have said after that was lost as they made their way through the gate and when they were out of view, she felt Lexa’s hand move from her lower back to around her waist, pulling her in tightly to her side. Clarke could feel how stiff she was beside her and she knew that Lexa was raging a battle within herself not to turn around and drive her sword through Jasper’s chest. Or worse. She huddled further into the Commander’s frame, wrapping her own arm around Lexa’s waist, trying to lend her calmness through the space where their bodies met and their warmth passed between one another. 

“What was that?” Lexa growled, her tone laced with anger and seething beneath a clenched jaw.

“His girlfriend was one of the people I killed in Mount Weather,” was all Clarke could think to say, her mind dizzy with emotions. She knew deep down that she hadn’t been given an opportunity to do otherwise, her people were being drained of bone marrow until the blood loss killed them and her mom was about to be next.

Lexa sighed at that, her shoulders deflating. They reached the entrance to her tent and she held the flaps open for Clarke to step in before her, though she gripped Clarke’s wrist before she could move all the way through. It was urgent and pleading and nothing like the harsh clutching around the same wrist she had felt only moments before from the boy that she had taken his everything from. Lexa’s touch was always warm, always comforting, and it flooded through Clarke the way air flooded her lungs: necessary, vital, essential.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “Every victory stands on the back of sacrifice.”

Clarke’s hand came up, brushing her fingers over Lexa’s before she nodded once and stepped the rest of the way into the room. She didn’t have an answer for the Commander. She didn’t know how to explain to Lexa that asking people to sacrifice something could be the same as asking them to sacrifice everything, though she figured that Lexa already knew. Lexa was wise. Not in the way that required knowledge, as knowledge came from learning, but in the wisdom that could only come from living. Despite her youth, the Commander had lived, in this lifetime and perhaps ten lifetimes before. She had seen and done things that were unfathomable to most, and she had survived through it all, taking with her lessons that could never be forgotten.

She was about to culminate some sort of reply when she glanced up and saw that they were not alone in Lexa’s quarters. The large tent was set up exactly as it had been since the first time she’d ever set foot in it, with Lexa’s throne at the center, clad in furs and cast in the glow of candle light. The furniture was arranged in the same way, a table containing various food and drinks to the right, and a plush daybed to the left. The only thing that seemed to be out of place was the man that stood in front of Lexa’s throne, clad in his flowing grey robes and wearing a familiar expression of disdain.

“Heda, forgive me,” Titus spoke. “I thought you would be alone.” His eyes were framed in deep-set wrinkles that looked like he’d aged ten years in the four days that they’d been traveling. His body, normally rigid and proper in his posture, sagged beneath the weight of exhaustion and the grey stubble on his face had sprung into a scraggly beard.

“Titus,” Lexa spoke, falling into stride beside Clarke. Her stance shifted and she instantly held her shoulders high, her chin forward, and her hands clasped behind her back. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I came to give council,” he replied, glancing back and forth between Clarke and his Commander. “I was hoping for a few moments alone.”

Lexa pushed past him and stood in front of her throne, though she did not sit. “Whatever you have to say, you may say in front of Clarke,” she replied, shooting Clarke a pointed look that told her not to even think about leaving.

His features darkened, flushing red with anger and his words were forced when he spoke again. “I think you are making a mistake, Heda,” he said, brashly. “Making _Skaikru_ the thirteenth clan will only lead to further dissension.” 

“And what of _Azgeda_?” Lexa asked. “Do we sit back and do nothing in the face of Nia’s threats?”

“The Sky People are not our people,” he replied. “We owe them nothing.”

“If not for the Sky People, thousands of our own would still be trapped in Mount Weather. Is that not something?” she asked. 

Clarke felt like she was intruding on a private conversation, instantly feeling heat rise in her cheeks as Titus shot her a seething glare. “I fear you are acting on behalf of your heart and not your head, Alexandria,” he spoke, his tone just above a whisper. “I beg you to remember my teachings.”

“I will not hear this again!” Lexa snapped, and the abrupt change in her demeanor sent a jolt through Clarke’s senses. Suddenly, she was aware that she was witnessing a conversation that these two had discussed many times before, perhaps even for years past.

“Yes you will!” Titus growled his tone just as sharp. “Your feelings for Clarke put both of you in danger!”

Lexa sighed, turning her back and mumbling something beneath her breath as she began pacing the room as if she could no longer remain still. Clarke wanted to speak, but her voice was lost somewhere in the mix of emotions whipping through her body. She was watching the Commander, the leader of the Coalition, being scolded like a child by a man who had always been a father figure to her, and yet there was nothing either of them could say. She knew that Lexa was acting on what she thought was best for her own people, but part of her wondered if Lexa’s decision to allow , _Skaikru_ into the Coalition had been partly because of their relationship. It had gone against everything in the Commander’s nature. Lexa believed that love was weakness, surely she would not act on her emotions alone.

“If you care about Clarke,” Titus pressed on. “You will leave her here with her people. You will abandon the notion of allowing _Skaikru_ into the Coalition, and you will go home to deal with the threat of Ice Nation with your ambassadors. Do not make Clarke and her people pay for your mistakes as Costia did,” he cautioned, his voice low and unwavering.

Lexa stiffened at the mention of her former love, her shoulders going even more rigid than they already were, and there was fire in her emerald eyes when she turned to meet her mentor’s gaze. “My mistakes?” she asked, taking a menacing step towards him. “ _Azgeda_ cut off Costia’s head and delivered it to my bed,” she seethed, coming to a stop just inches in front of him. “And still I let them into my alliance!” she was shouting now, and Clarke had never seen her so undone before. “I am more than capable of separating feelings from duty!”

Titus reeled back, glancing away to hide his shamed gaze as silence fell over them. A moment later he spoke again. “I am sorry, Lexa,” he said, his voice softer now, knowing that he had crossed a line. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yes you did,” she replied, just above a whisper as her shoulders fell and she struggled to regain control of her emotions. The impassive look that she wore in the presence of everyone but Clarke fell over her features again. “But you also mean well. And I know that, teacher,” she said, understanding passing between the two of them.

He nodded, allowing his eyes to meet hers again. “You mean well, Heda,” he whispered. “But now is not the time for good intentions. When Nia makes her move, our focus should be there. You will only antagonize her further by offering _Skaikru_ a seat at your table.”

“I will not let the fear of war dictate our agenda,” Lexa replied. “Peace may only be achieved on the shoulders of our two people working together. We need not destroy an entire nation of people for fear that Nia will motion for civil war. She will do so regardless, so why not stand together against her?” the Commander asked. “Why not allow _Skaikru_ the opportunity to stand by _our_ side in the face of _our_ enemy?”

“Not one of the twelve clans will accept this,” Titus said, his voice steely beneath a discerning mask of calm.

“They will accept it,” Lexa answered firmly. “War is coming, no matter our actions. Nia has drawn a line, and the ambassadors must choose which side they will stand upon when the battle starts.”

Titus sighed. “This is not our way, Heda. Everything you have worked for will come undone. The Coalition will split, you must know this.”

“As long as I live, Nia will seek a way to challenge me,” she said. “The Coalition was formed in hopes of peace, but the events of our past point us only towards war. We cannot have a lasting peace while we both live, _Fleimkepa_.”

His shoulders fell as if being crushed beneath the weight of truth in her words. “Very well, Heda,” he whispered. “I have served four Commanders before you, and none of them were able to accomplish what you did. I hope you are not throwing that away.”

Lexa nodded, once again folding her hands behind her back. “Thank you, _Fleimkepa_ ,” she said, dismissing him. Whether he approved or not, it was clear that the Commander believed this was the best option for her people. War was imminent, and now it was about choosing the best allies to stand by her side.

Titus’s eyes shifted towards Clarke where she stood like a statue in the corner of the room, privy to a conversation that she had no business hearing. Part of her wished that she hadn’t, and the guilt that sat in her stomach had already begun to creep up her throat knowing the danger that Lexa was putting herself in for the sake of her people. War between Nia and Lexa was brewing long before the Sky People ever set foot on the ground, yet she couldn’t help but feel that their actions to save Farm Station in _Azgeda_ was the final straw that shattered the very thin line of peace they’d established. She’d seen the hate in the Ice Queen’s eyes and the anger at being challenged in her own territory, in front of her own people. It was a hate that bathed in bloodlust and yearned for death, a hate that would not be sated until enough bodies were laid at her feet, and Lexa’s was at the top of the pile.

“ _Wanheda_ ,” Titus spoke. “Ensure that your people understand the gravity of the situation and what Lexa risks by allowing this,” he said, holding her gaze.

“I will,” Clarke replied, knowing that the next morning would hold all manner of emotions and conflicts between herself and her own people.

He nodded once, solemnly, as if accepting this course of action was equivalent to accepting his own death. She could see the fear and trepidation in his eyes, the anger that folded itself in his brow, and the concern he held in his posture for the girl he had practically raised. He turned, bowing once to Lexa in a show of respect before sweeping out of the room, grey robes billowing out behind him as he pushed through the flaps of the tent and into the night. Silence settled over them after his departure, the tension hanging thick in the air as Lexa allowed her self to sink into her throne, putting her face in her hands as she let out a long sigh.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, breaking the silence. She wandered over to where Lexa sat and stopped just in front of the throne, caught somewhere in between wanting to take her into her arms and wanting to give her space. “What are we doing?” she asked.

Lexa looked up, green eyes clashing with blue, both storming in the flickering light of a hundred candles. “We are saving our people, Clarke,” she answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me your plan?” she asked. “We never discussed _Skaikru_ becoming the thirteenth clan.”

“Because I knew you would try to talk me out of it, Clarke,” Lexa replied as if it was obvious.

“Yes, I would have,” she agreed. Clarke settled on closing the distance between them and stepped forward, resting both hands on the arms of Lexa’s throne and leaning over the Commander so that their faces were just centimeters apart. “We’re walking in dangerous territory here, Lex,” she whispered.

“We are,” Lexa nodded, her eyes flitting down to Clarke’s lips and then back up again. “But we’re walking it together,” she answered, voice rough.

The friction in the space between their lips was electric, and Clarke could feel the tiny sparks that buzzed across her skin, pulsing and begging to close the gap. All of the emotions of the day weighed heavy on her shoulders, pushing her down even further still. All the joy, the fear, the angst, the disappointment, the stress, the happiness, and the anger that she had felt at seeing her people again were eclipsed by one single emotion that had begun to well in her throat. It was the confession that she struggled to hold back, unable to even admit it to herself, let alone breathe it to life in the silence around them. 

Instead, she closed the space between their lips, engulfing Lexa’s mouth in her own and taking her in greedily. She knew there was more to discuss, but in this moment, she needed to let her desires win out. She needed to feel Lexa, to touch her, to taste her, to take in every single bit of her until she was sure that they could both feel those three unspoken words. Clarke felt Lexa’s hands climb up over her waist, grasping her tightly and pulling her into her lap atop the throne, never once breaking their kiss. Lexa’s tongue flitted across her bottom lip and she felt a heated moan escape from the back of her throat as she opened her mouth and allowed her entry, their tastes swimming together.

She pushed forward, thrusting her hips down into Lexa’s thigh, intent on taking exactly what she needed from her as warmth pooled in between her legs. She pulled Lexa’s bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, drawing the metallic taste of blood to the surface as the Commander let out a soft whimper. The sound drove Clarke’s senses insane, and she longed to hear it again, pushing herself further against Lexa, the friction between them pulling at the bundle of nerves between her thighs. She could feel her own moisture soaking through her pants as she bore down on the Commander, Lexa’s hands now pushing and pulling her hips to aid in the speed of her motions.

“Lexa,” Clarke gasped, feeling those three words bubbling up, begging to break free of their restraints. “I— oh fuck,” she trailed off as the Commander’s hands snaked under her shirt and up the front of her body.

Lexa broke away, letting her mouth trail down Clarke’s neck, nipping at her collarbone before sucking her soft skin into her mouth, intent on leaving her mark. Her hands found Clarke’s breasts, kneading them intently before flitting beneath her bra to find pert nipples waiting for her. Clarke’s pace quickened and she could feel herself coming undone as Lexa rolled her nipples between her fingers, teasing the nerves and pulling another haughty moan from the back of Clarke’s throat. 

She thrust herself downward into the Commander’s toned thigh, again and again, faster and faster as she felt that beautiful build between her own. She needed release, yearned for it as Lexa’s hands trailed across her flesh to her back, her nails digging in and gripping just above her waist as she pulled Clarke down into her. Clarke threw her head back, clenching her eyes shut as she felt her legs begin to shake and her body tremble with need. It took everything in her not to scream Lexa’s name as her orgasm racked through her, leaving her gasping for air in a puddle of her own doing as she rode out her pleasure. They sat there, breathing in each other’s scents and pressing soft kisses to even softer lips, letting the candlelight wash over them as they shared the Commander’s throne— _Heda_ and _Wanheda_ , tangled up as one.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke paced the length of the council room, feeling the eyes of her mother and Kane on her back. Lexa and Indra stood outside the door, awaiting the verdict of the _Skaikru_ “council” on her proposition. Clarke noticed that the "council" now consisted of Abby, Kane, Pike, and whichever delinquent they felt offered a valid opinion at the time they needed it, which at the moment happened to be Bellamy and Raven. Tension still seethed off Raven in Clarke’s direction, though it seemed less violent than the night before and she wondered if Bellamy had tried to speak to her.

The room was stiflingly quiet as they sat at the table deliberating the fate of their people and the possibility of a new form of government. With Lexa's proposal also came the possibility of trade and the prospect of highly valuable survival skills training, not to mention the protection of the Commander herself. To Clarke, it was a no-brainer, however, everyone else in the room did not embrace the same eagerness to comply with the Grounder's rule of law.

Abby and Kane exchanged wary glances as Clarke paced the room in front of them, unable to keep still as they droned on and on about the pros and cons of the new alliance. Pike sat stoically, watching the scene unfold and offering his input or opinion when he felt it necessary to speak and Clarke had grown to respect the knowledge and council that he had to offer. On the other hand, Raven and Bellamy sat across the table bickering with each other as if they were married and disagreeing on each point of focus that the elder council members brought to attention.

Clarke thought that there would be a dent worn into the floor from her nervous pacing by the time they reached their decision, and she couldn't handle the indecisiveness anymore. "I don't know why we're even deliberating this still!" she snapped when her patience had finally reached its end.

"Because, Clarke," her mother answered. "We can't just agree to give our freedoms away without knowing exactly what we're getting ourselves into."

"We're not giving anything away!" she shot back. "If anything, we're gaining something from this. We can become a sustainable community. The Grounders can teach us to hunt and farm and build, and we can trade with them, and we will be gaining access to the resources in Mount Weather. It will also serve to protect us from future threats once Ice Nation has been dealt with."

"And all of that sounds great, Clarke," Marcus agreed. "But we need to understand how this is going to work first. Do we answer to Lexa? Do we get a seat on her council and have a say in Coalition affairs? Will the other clans even accept that?" he asked, firing off questions.

Clarke sighed, pushing her hair back off her face. She felt as if she'd answered the same questions a hundred times already. "Lexa is the head of the Coalition, but she allows each nation to govern itself however they see fit, so that means we can keep our council system. We will be given two spots in her war council, an ambassador that remains in Polis, and a delegate that is responsible for communicating between Polis and Arkadia," she explained. "And from what Lexa has told me, the other clans will accept us. Most of them have respect for our actions at Mount Weather."

"Clarke, I see where you're coming from, but how do we know we can trust the Grounders?" Bellamy asked. "We've been at odds with them since we landed."

"I trust Lexa," Clarke replied. "She's not the monster our people make her out to be."

"Could have fooled me," Raven scoffed, attempting to hide her comment under her breath but it was clearly heard by all.

"Raven, you don't even know her," Clarke snapped defensively.

The other girl rolled her eyes before shooting Clarke a pointed look. "I don't have to know her to know that she abandoned us and left us to die. I know that she strapped me to a pole and tortured me, and I know that she let a bomb drop on an entire village full of people, you sister included," she said, looking towards Bellamy. "I know that that is not the kind of person that I want making decisions for me and my people."

"She has a point..." Abby trailed off. 

Clarke remembered the look in her mother's eyes the night that the missile dropped on TonDC. She'd been so dejected and disappointed that it still made her heart ache at just the thought of it. Little did Abby know that Clarke was still suffering for her decisions of that night, and that she still held the weight of those deaths on her shoulders.

Silence settled over the room again as Clarke let the words sink in, feeling heat flush through the core of her body, lighting every fiber of her being on fire. "How dare you," she spoke and her voice was ice, colder than the very heart of _Azgeda_. "How dare any of you sit there and judge her actions, her people, as if ours are no different. You," she said, turning to Abby and Kane. "You two killed people on the Ark for trying to get medicine to save their children's lives, or stealing food for their starving families, or for having one too many children. You floated my father, your own husband," she glared directly at her mom now. "Because you thought you were doing what was best for our people. Lexa left us at Mount Weather because she thought it was best for hers."

"Clarke—

Abby tried, but Clarke held up her hand. "And you," she said, turning her smoldering gaze on Raven. "You tied Lincoln up in the drop ship and you tortured him for something that you thought he was guilty of, same as what Lexa did with you that day she thought you tried to poison her. You," she said, moving on to Bellamy. "You say you don't know if we can trust the Grounders, but can we even trust ourselves? Your actions have led to the deaths of hundreds of people Bellamy, yet here you are, sitting on our council as we decide the future of our people."

"I don't know you very well," she continued on, now glancing at Pike. "But I'm willing to bet that you did some things you weren't proud of in Ice Nation in order to protect your people."

Pike nodded once, solemnly. "You would be correct," he said.

"Exactly," Clarke answered, now stepping away to look over the entire group again. "So don't sit there and cast judgment on Lexa and the Grounders without first looking at yourselves and our own people because when it comes down to it, we're not that different. We're all just trying to survive."

She watched as the eyes that were trained on her fell away, attempting to hide the shame within them. The only person willing to meet her gaze was Kane, and even then she could see unease written on his stoic features. "And you think joining the Coalition is the best way to survive?" he asked.

Clarke shook her head letting the words come to her without thought. "I think joining the Coalition is the best way to live," she stated. "We can create a life here for ourselves with their help. And life should be about more than just surviving."

"And what about Lexa?" Abby asked. "She will always put her people before our own. She'd sacrifice anything for them," she stated, reiterating her words to Clarke from the night before.

"Don't you get it, Mom?" Clarke questioned. "If we do this, we will be her people. There won’t be any more Sky People and Grounders. We will all be Grounders, hell, we've all been Grounders since the moment we came down here. There wont be a divide anymore."

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, she left the room speechless. Each individual exchanged glances and shrugs of their shoulders as if coming to some silent agreement. "Should we vote then?" Pike asked, and again, each person nodded.

"All in favor of joining the Coalition and becoming the thirteenth clan?" Kane asked.

The hands started to go up, Clarke and Pike almost immediately, followed by Kane and a hesitant Bellamy. Abby's eyes found her daughter's and they held her gaze, tension passing between the two of them until it visibly melted away and Abby's shoulders fell with a shaky breath as she slowly raised a hand. Even Raven, who Clarke thought would adamantly oppose the merger, rolled her eyes as she threw her hand into the air.

"So, it's unanimous then," Kane said. " _Skaikru_ will officially become the thirteenth clan."

"This is the best choice for us," Clarke supplied. "We will need Lexa's support when Nia makes her move. And the Grounders can help us get through the winter."

"Who will we name as our ambassador and delegate?" Bellamy asked, though the answer should have been obvious.

Clarke again shared a glance with her mother, not missing the pleading tears behind her stare. "Look," Clarke said, this time her tone was gentle for her mother's sake. "Right now, I think that it's best for me to be the face of _Skaikru_ in Polis. The people there know me already and they view me as a leader and a warrior among our people for my actions in Mount Weather. It will ease the tension among the clans if they see _Wanheda_ sitting in council on behalf of _Skaikru_ ," she explained, using the Grounder nickname for herself and it tasted bitter on her tongue though she could not deny the advantage that it presented.

"So, you'll be living in Polis?" Raven asked, a slight edge of disappointment to her tone and Clarke wondered if that meant that perhaps she'd been hoping to mend their relationship.

"For the time being," Clarke replied, softly. "It doesn't have to be permanent and I'll be back here as often as I can to visit," she assured the other girl and her mother. "And our people will be welcome in Polis any time to trade with the other clans and offer goods of our own, so you can visit me there as well."

"That sounds like the right choice," Kane agreed and Clarke didn't miss the way he gave Abby's shoulder a gentle squeeze as if trying to reassure her. "And the delegate position?" he asked.

"I think Kane or Pike would be respectable delegates," Bellamy offered. "Kane has already had dealings with the Grounder council, and Pike seems to hold a neutral standpoint in most situations." 

Pike cleared his throat, holding up both of his hands. "If it's all the same to you guys, I'd like to just stay here in Arkadia with our people and work on setting up a crop rotation as well as gathering resources from Mount Weather. I was leader of Farm Station after all," he suggested.

"So, Kane it is then as delegate?" Clarke asked. "And our current council will remain in place to make decisions regarding our own nation."

Again, they all nodded their agreements and Clarke thought that she could register relief on Kane's face. "So, it's settled then," he said. "Let's bring in the Commander and inform her of our decision."

Clarke nodded and shifted towards the door that she knew Lexa and Indra waited behind, feeling the electricity pulsing in the air that seemed to pick up and spark any time she neared the Commander. The metal door handle shocked her as she closed her hand around it, lending further proof to the static that lingered like a constant invisible force between them. She pulled the door open and signaled for Lexa and her Second to enter the room, trying her best to hide the giant grin that she knew was aching to break free at the corners of her mouth.

She wanted nothing more than to rush into Lexa’s arms and press a searing kiss to the lips that she craved, expressing her relief and happiness through physical contact. It took every ounce of restraint in her body to hold back her deepest desires as her eyes found Lexa’s, staring into the deep pools of emerald green that reflected the hidden angst raging behind the Commander’s mask of calm. Lexa wore her shoulder armor, red cape flowing behind her, cascading down the back of her fur lined leather overcoat. Skin tight black pants were strapped with tighter bracers and guarders around her thighs, dipping in to knee high black boots. She had opted to go without her war paint, though her smooth features were just as effective as her mask of black, and the round cog symbol of the coalition sat prominently between her eyes.

She swooped into the room, red cape billowing behind her and Indra close on her heals. The _Trikru_ general was clad in silver armor of her own, draping across her shoulders and strapped in layers over her chest. She wore brown pants and black boots, her sword strapped dauntingly at her side. Her expression was just as blank as her Commander’s, and Clarke couldn’t tell if she was in favor or opposed to the idea of _Skaikru_ joining the Coalition. Her deep brown eyes scanned over the room and fell on Kane, returning his slight nod in a mutual show of respect.

Once they filed in to the room, Lexa stood in front of the table, clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her chin high. She was strong in the way that she commanded the attention of any room she entered, and she held herself tall and proud, her spine rigid and shoulders squared. Clarke swallowed a lump that had gathered in her throat, choking back the desire that surged through her entire body, resounding and warm between her thighs as she drank in Lexa’s appearance. She didn’t think she would ever get past the effect that the Commander had on her, like she was the moth and Lexa was the flame.

“Have you reached a decision?” Lexa asked, her voice calm and unquestionable as it echoed off the metal ceiling above them.

“We have,” Abby replied, standing to address the Commander. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders in an attempt to match Lexa’s posture. “We have agreed to accept your proposal. We feel that this the best move for the safety and prosperity of our people moving forward.”

“I see,” Lexa nodded, her tone as flat and impassive as usual, though Clarke spotted the slight shift of relief in her eyes and the barely traceable ease of tension in her shoulders. “Very well then. I will serve your people with my life,” Lexa assured, speaking to the entire room now. “Where there was weakness in the divided, there will be strength in the united.”

They each nodded, though Clarke could see the skepticism in their eyes. She couldn’t help the smile that twitched in her cheeks at the flood of pride she felt for the Commander, knowing that her words were nothing but truth. Her people were going to be Lexa’s people, and Lexa would always give anything to ensure the happiness and health of those who depended on her. 

It was Pike who spoke next. “We will hold you to the promises you made us,” he said. “The resources in Mount Weather, the trade routes, the instruction in agriculture and hunting.”

“I expect you to,” Lexa replied.

“So, what’s our next step?” Clarke asked, eager to move forward. There had been enough talk over the past two days.

“Well, Clarke,” Lexa began. “In order for this merge to be official, it must be consummated in front of the ambassadors of the Coalition. A member of _Skaikru_ must take the brand, the symbol of the Coalition and bows must be exchanged. So, your council must accompany us to Polis in order to perform the ritual.”

Kane perked up at that, his eyebrows rising. “You want us to come with you to Polis?” he asked.

“Whomever you have chosen as your ambassador and delegate will be required. Of course others are welcome, should they choose so,” she answered.

“Clarke will be serving as our ambassador, and I will be serving as our delegate,” Marcus informed her.

Again, Clarke caught the slight flash of relief in the green of Lexa’s eyes and she could tell that the news pleased her. She would be staying in Polis with Lexa, remaining there as the ambassador to _Skaikru_. “Then you and Clarke will be necessary for the ritual.”

“I’d like to come too,” Abby interjected. “I want to see it for myself.”

“Octavia and Lincoln have agreed to accompany us as well, so that Octavia may resume her lessons as my Second,” Indra spoke up, informing them all of the news.

Bellamy’s jaw ticked slightly at the revelation of his sister leaving Arkadia, but he pressed on without voicing his concern. “And what of Mount Weather? When will we be able to retrieve supplies from there?” he asked.

“Yes,” Abby agreed. “The sooner we retrieve the medical provisions, the sooner I can get a clinic up and running. We could also benefit from the food stores.”

Lexa nodded her understanding. “You may go at any time.”

“Then Raven and I will take a group and leave immediately,” Bellamy supplied.

“I’d like to come with you,” Pike added. “I need to see this place.”

“Very well,” the Commander replied. “Then Clarke, Kane, and Abby will accompany me to Polis as soon as possible. I have been away for too long.” Clarke nodded, not able to hold back her feeling that she, too, had been away from the capital city for far too long.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke's back ached, shooting pain down both of her legs, and her ass had gone numb in the saddle hours ago. They rode for Polis, flanked by Lexa's guard as the autumn sun hung in the sky directly above their heads, bright and blaring, but giving off little heat. The low-hanging branches on the trees were now barren of life, the once lush green leaves crunching loudly beneath trotting hooves. Their pace wasn't urgent and they rode easily, stopping for breaks when rest was needed, and Clarke knew that the slower speed was for the benefit of her people.

She rode beside Octavia, staring at Lexa's back and watching the way she moved atop her horse with such grace and ease as if it was nothing more than an ingrained second nature. She didn't miss the way she held her shoulders back, keeping her posture rigid and the air of superiority that was expected of the Commander, nor did she miss the way her hand reflexively went to the hilt of her sword at her side. She watched her cape billow and flow behind her in the wind, dancing down the flanks of her horse and was transfixed by the way Lexa's brown hair splayed down her back in intricate woven braids. Every now and then, the Commander would look back, green eyes searching until she met Clarke's gaze, as if afraid she'd turn around and the beautiful blonde would be gone.

Lincoln trotted alongside Lexa, leaning over and speaking in hushed tones that Clarke couldn't quite make out, but by the tension in his body language she guessed that he was nervous. The Commander had placed a kill order on Lincoln's head after he'd defied her orders at Mount Weather and remained behind with the Sky People to aid in their daring rescue. His direct defiance had been a grievous offense and Lexa had no choice but to outcast him from their people, but now it looked as if they were mending old wounds.

"He is probably speaking to her about the kill order," Octavia said from beside Clarke, following her gaze and reading her train of thoughts.

Clarke glanced over at the girl beside her. Octavia was two years younger, but she'd grown so much since they landed on the ground. She'd gone from the girl they hid beneath the floor, to a bubbly teenager just excited to be alive, and now to a grown woman and a fierce warrior. Looking at her now, Clarke couldn't help but notice how hauntingly beautiful and regal she looked atop her black stallion, clad in Grounder attire with two swords strapped across her back. The look was natural on her, as if she had always been a Grounder, and it was easy to see that this girl had found her place in the world.

"I figured as much," Clarke replied with a shrug. She already knew that Lexa would lift the kill order.

"Did you know they grew up together?" Octavia asked. "The Commander and Lincoln grew up in the same village. They were even good friends before Lexa was taken to Polis to join the novitiates."

Clarke eyed them curiously, trying to see if there was anything in their postures or the way they acted towards each other to suggest a long-time familiarity, but the only thing she could read emanating off of them both was deep mutual respect. "Does he ever talk about what she was like?" Clarke asked, the need to know every detail and facet of Lexa and what made her tick was overwhelming.

"Why do you want to know?" Octavia teased in a singsong voice, shooting her a wink as Clarke felt her cheeks go hot.

She cleared her throat and glanced away, realizing that her eyes were still trained on Lexa's back. "Just curious, I guess," she supplied but they both knew that it was an understatement.

"He says she was much like how she is now; strong, wise, passionate. He said she was born to be Commander, and that he would give his life for hers."

Clarke never ceased to be amazed by the loyalty and love that most of the Grounders showed Lexa. Her people adored her, yet her life and legacy constantly hung in the balance due to politics and power struggles of the elite. Despite her popularity and the best interests of the majority, those who aimed to benefit themselves and the sway of policies challenged her. For as much as the world had changed in the hundred and fifty years since the nuclear war that ended it, not much had really changed at all. Leaders that were loved and cherished by the people still fell to the whims of those much less qualified and much more bloodthirsty. It was the same story that had been written over and over again throughout the history of humanity, yet they never seemed to learn.

"Titus said the same thing about her," Clarke mused, seeing in her the same strength, wisdom and passion that the others saw.

"He also said that beneath the black war mask and the daunting title, she is a genuinely kind and tender person, though nobody ever gets to see that side of Lexa anymore," she continued. "But something tells me you already have..."

"She's no different than the rest of us," Clarke stated. "We all have to make impossible decisions and sacrifices, and we all have to suffer with the aftermath of them. Lexa is just better at bearing that weight than the rest of us."

Octavia turned her gaze towards Clarke, drawing her back in. "Look, Clarke," she started. "I know that things between us have been tense since that missile in TonDC, but I want you to know that I understand why you did what you did."

"You do?" Clarke asked, surprised. Her people rarely attempted to understand her decisions or even accept them if they did not agree with them, and it made her truly wonder if Octavia was more Grounder than Sky Person.

"Yes," Octavia replied. "I can't necessarily say that I agree, but I know that you were doing what was best for our people in Mount Weather and for my brother. I know that you were sacrificing the few to save the many."

Clarke found a slight grin spreading across her cheeks. "You sound like Lexa."

"Close," she said. "It was actually Indra who helped me to realize that."

"How are things between the two of you?"

"They're better," Octavia answered, wearing a smile of her own. "With _Skaikru_ joining the Coalition, I can be her Second and still remain loyal to our people. It's honestly the best I could have hoped for, Clarke," she explained.

Clarke nodded. "I'm happy for you, O," she said. "And I'm happy that you're going to be in Polis with me." She meant it. Octavia and Lincoln intended to stay behind in Polis with Clarke, even after the ceremony and Kane and Abby's departure, and the thought of having another familiar face around gave Clarke comfort.

"How are you, Clarke?" Octavia asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note and dropping so low that only the two of them could hear. "Indra told me how they found you in the forest after Mount Weather..."

She felt the familiar tug of grief ripping at her heart as she thought about how lost she'd been in those days after the attack on the Mountain, and how utterly hopeless the prospect of living even another day had seemed. "What we did in the Mountain...what I did..." she trailed off, trying to find the right words. "It broke me," she admitted.

"Clarke," Octavia whispered. "Our people are alive because of you."

"But at what cost?" she asked.

"You are the one who kept us alive when the drop ship landed and got a message up to the Ark. You are the one who negotiated an alliance with the Grounders. You are the one who saved our people in Mount Weather. You are the one who saved Farm Station in , _Azgeda_ , and you are the one who secured our place in the Coalition. We all owe you our lives five times over by my count."

Clarke turned away, unable to meet the other girl's gaze. "Think of all the people I killed to do each of those things," she whispered, dejectedly.

"Think of all the people you saved," Octavia countered.

Her words echoed Lexa's. She bears the weight of the deaths by thinking about those that are alive. The dead were gone, and their priority was with the living. "I know," she said. "I know that you're right."

"Then let it go," Octavia suggested. "Learn from it, and lock it away."

Clarke nodded, her eyes falling again on the Commander in front of her. "I'm doing a lot better with it," she said. "Lexa makes it so much easier." 

As if she could hear her name on Clarke's lips, though they were speaking much too softly and Lexa was too far ahead, the Commander turned to look at Clarke. Their eyes met in a familiar dance of blue and green, drawn together by some inseparable bond, and a small smile played at the corner of the Commander's mouth. Her lips turned up in a sort of half-smirk before she focused her attention forward again, and Clarke could feel the things that it did to her all the way down in her groin.

"What's going on with you two?" Octavia asked, clearly noticing the silent exchange.

"It's...complicated."

"How complicated can it be?" the other girl grinned. "Are you sleeping with her or not?"

Clarke felt her cheeks flush red at the question and cleared her throat, peeking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. "We are sleeping together every night, but we haven't slept together in that way yet," she admitted. "We've done other things, but not that. Not yet."

She expected Octavia to tease her, but instead she nodded her head in understanding. "It's hard to miss the way you two feed off each other. It's like a glow about you whenever she's around, and the same for her. She looks at you like you're her entire world, Clarke," she let out a small laugh. "There's no way to hide those heart eyes, no matter how hard she tries."

Clarke smiled. "I don't know, O," she mused. "I just feel like whenever I'm with her, I'm doing more than just surviving. For the first time in my life, she makes me feel like I'm actually living."

"Wow," she replied, her brow arching. "You've got it bad."

"Look who's talking," Clarke laughed. "But yeah, I think I do."

"Well," Octavia began, reaching over and placing her hand on Clarke's shoulder. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here now," she said. "I'm here for you."

"Thanks, O," Clarke replied. She hadn't expected this level of kindness and understanding from anyone but Lexa, let alone one of her own people, and she found herself welling with pride at the girl beside her who had come so far. "I'm here for you too."

Octavia returned her smile. "Oh, and Clarke," she added. "I'm pretty sure Commander Heart Eyes has got it just as bad as you."  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Polis tower came into view just before sundown, the flame that burned atop it bright and radiating against the dimming purple sky. They were still miles away, but Clarke swore she could feel the warmth of it all the way from where she sat firmly in her saddle. She rode with Lexa on her right, their feet brushing lightly every few moments with the constant gait of their horses, and her mother on her left. She heard Abby gasp at the sight of the orange flame on the skyline in front of them, blazing like a second sun in front of the backdrop of a vast green forest. She found herself sniffing the air, trying to see if she could catch the scents of roasted meat and salt on the breeze, but they were still too far and all she could smell was pine and the pungency of horses.

"What is that?" Abby asked, and Clarke couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable she appeared atop her horse, awkward like a baby deer testing its legs for the first time.

It was a stark contrast to Lexa, who appeared the image of stoicism and ease, as she leaned over to answer Abby's question. "That is the Polis flame," she responded, her voice filled with pride. "It represents the unity and collaboration of the twelve clans, a symbol of the place in which we may all come together as one."

Abby nodded her head but did not speak and Clarke watched as her facial expressions flitted from nervous, to confused, and finally to wonder and awe. They rode on for the next hour in silence, tension building in the air around them as they each tried to picture what might lay beyond the walls of the Grounder capital city. More than a few times, Clarke caught Lexa staring at her out of the corner of her eye and she wondered what it was that the Commander was thinking about. Green eyes brightened behind a hesitant smile as Clarke turned to meet her gaze and it launched a wave of warmth and butterflies through her insides.

Clarke remembered the first time she had ever made this journey with Lexa. She recalled the nerves that had twisted like a knife in her stomach and the fear she had felt at diving into the belly of the beast, the lone Sky Person surrounded by thousands of Grounders. Now she felt only the gentle well of excitement dancing in her chest and across her features as she pictured the welcoming arms of the people, the days spent with Aden and the warmth of Lexa's bed. To Clarke, she was returning home, but she couldn't help but notice the apprehension and trepidation on the faces of her mother and Kane.

Kane had been quiet most of the ride, lost in thought and looking more bored than anything, but now he was on full alert, glancing around at the trees as if he expected an enemy to jump out at them at any moment. She could also see the giddiness that he tried to hide as the gates of Polis swam into view around the next bend. Her mother, on the other hand, looked like she was about two seconds from a heart attack. Her white knuckles clutched tightly at the reins of her steed and her brow was furrowed in a deep frown that she had let settle over the thin line of her mouth.

"Relax, Mom," Clarke whispered, nudging her with her boot. "We're safe here."

It was as if her words conjured the large guard party that greeted them at the gate, welcoming their Commander home with bows of respect as the group moved to dismount their horses. Lexa spoke to them in _Trigedasleng_ , muttering orders as a group of stable hands rushed to take the reins of their horses and lead them away into the stable house at the side of the road. The heavy wooden gates groaned as the guards pulled them open, granting them access to the city below.

They stood atop a small hill, looking down into the streets below and watching as the masses of people milled about in the cool evening air. The roads looked alive with bystanders, flowing through the city like blood through veins, the vital force that brought Polis to life. The lanterns that strung over the streets and hung at the top of lampposts were being lit, flickering to existence and casting a hazy yellow glow over the people so that business could continue late into the evening. The muddled scent of smoke and fire and meat hit Clarke as the wind shifted in their direction and it smelt exactly like home.

She hadn't even realized the grin on her face as she took in Abby and Kane's wide-eyed expressions. She glanced over and saw Lexa observing them as well from where she stood with her hands clasped behind her back and a tiny smile turning up the corner of her mouth. Being in the city instantly changed something about her; she seemed more relaxed, as if the weight of the world was much lighter in the shadow of the city than it was in the wild of the world around them. Clarke could feel her own burdens lifting away as well and she wanted to reach out and grab the Commander's hand so that they could share in their comfort together. She fought the urge with a woeful shrug, deciding to save it for a time when they were alone, and instead turned back to her mother.

"So, what do you guys think?" Clarke asked.

"This is incredible," Kane began.

At the same time Abby muttered, "This is unbelievable."

Clarke felt her smile grow. "Not what you expected is it?"

"There's so many people," Abby remarked. "It's so alive."

"What are they all doing out here?" Kane asked, marveling at the scene in front of him. At the center of the city, the Polis tower rose up, bright flame burning against the deep blue of dusk and all the streets seemed to converge in on this one point.

"They're trading," Lexa interjected, her voice tinged with pride once more. "My people do not deal in currency, but rather in the trade of goods and food. There are members from every clan here right now as they prepare for the autumn harvest and the coming winter, that is why you see such populated streets even at this hour. The markets usually close at dusk, but during the harvest months, they remain open through the night to ensure that each village has ample time to prepare for the winter."

Kane shook his head slowly. "Incredible," he mumbled again.

"You will be able to trade and barter as well once you have joined the Coalition," Lexa offered. "Come," she said, descending down the pathway to the city.

The group followed Lexa through the streets, accompanied by a much larger guard party than what Clarke was used to and she assumed it was due to the increase of traffic in Polis for the autumn market. She felt a sudden rush of unease at the sight of an Ice Nation man, his face framed in the ceremonial scars of _Azgeda_ , as he eyed them nervously when they passed. Clarke found herself shifting closer to Lexa's side, pressing into her so that their arms brushed with each step as she tried to calm the storm inside her head. She didn't know why, but for some reason she hadn't expected to see _Azgeda_ among the people who had traveled to Polis to trade even though they, for the moment, remained a part of the Commander's Coalition. If Lexa had been unnerved at the sight of the warrior, she did not show it, but instead gave Clarke's hand a gentle reassuring squeeze as they continued their stroll towards the tower at the heart of the city.

Clarke returned the pressure of Lexa's hand, glancing around to see if anybody had witnessed the exchange, but all eyes were turned towards the buildings and vending stalls around them. The building rose up over the streets, constructed mainly of stone and bearing wooden roofs and doors as dim candlelight shone through from within. They passed a bustling place where people lined up out the door and mingled in laughter, speaking both English and _Trigedasleng_ ; the mugs of ale they clutched and the strong scent of alcohol in the air told Clarke that it was a tavern.

They wandered by a few vendors that were soliciting various sorts of colorful trinkets and jewelry and Clarke looked to where her mother stood beside Marcus. They each glanced at their surroundings, their eyes were wide with wonder and awe and moving a hundred miles a minute just to take in every detail. They huddled together and spoke in hushed tones, pointing and smiling and Clarke felt a wave of relief to see them so happy and engulfed in the Grounder culture. This was the side of the Grounders that Clarke had wanted them to see, the side of the people that was built upon cooperation and unity and peace, rather than the savages that thrived only on war as the Sky People thought them to be. This was the part of the Grounder culture that they would join and fight to protect simply because it was worth preserving.

At Clarke's other side, Octavia had her arm strung through Lincoln's, bouncing up and down and practically coming undone in her excitement. Her face was lit up with a joy that Clarke had not seen since Octavia became the first of the Hundred to set foot on the ground after the drop ship had landed. Even beneath the chastising gaze of her mentor, Octavia could not contain the sheer happiness in her features as she took in the city around them and all the life that it presented. Indra, who Clarke could never recall seeing smile, let a small grin play on her mouth as she watched her young Second. Lincoln held tightly to his girlfriend, looking more like a worried parent trying to keep his kid from wandering off in a crowd than the fierce warrior that Clarke knew him to be.

They couldn't go more than a few feet without someone bowing in respect to the Commander or offering her their forearm in the traditional warriors greeting. The people chanted Lexa's name, reaching out to touch her shoulder or simply shouting their praise, and again Clarke was reminded just how much the Grounders adored their leader. A pang of fear in the back of her mind served to tell her that the love of the people hardly mattered in the minds of the ambassadors and politicians that always sought to gain more. She silently vowed that as an ambassador, she would change that, and she would fight for Lexa even if it put her in great danger the way it had Costia.

She watched in silent admiration as a vendor approached Abby and Kane, offering them what looked like a strip of grilled meat and prompting them to try it. At first Abby refused, but Kane informed her that it would be an insult not to accept the woman's gift, and she gave in. Her hazel eyes went wide as she took the first bite, reveling in the flavor of it and nodding her head in approval. The vendor laughed with excitement and urged Kane to try it as well.

" _Mochof_ ," Kane spoke, using the Grounder word for 'thank you'. He reached to the patch on the shoulder of his jacket, the symbol that he was formerly a member of the Ark police force, and tore it off, smiling as he offered it to the woman. " _Beja_ ," he said, pushing it into her hand. "Please."

The woman gave a bashful smile and nodded her acceptance, taking the patch into her hands and cradling it like it was something fragile. It was then that Clarke realized how much her people had to offer the Grounders. Not only could they give them medical treatment, but they could also help to advance their culture as well and instruct them in the ways of literacy or even some technological facets. Both people could only gain from the merger, but she knew that it would be a battle in its own trying to convince the clan leaders and ambassadors of that.

They came to a stop at the base of the giant tower, craning their necks to even see the flame at the top and again Clarke could see the wonder in her mother's face. "You look really overwhelmed, Mom," Clarke mused, not attempting to hide the grin that was pulling adamantly at her mouth.

"I've never seen anything like this," Abby gasped. "Your father would have loved it here."

"Yes, he would have," Clarke agreed, though the thought did not bring her pain.

She shared a smile with her mother and felt only comfort pass in the moment between them, as if the city had already begun to heal their broken relationship. They shared in their admiration and appreciation of the city that was so full of life and diversity, and they shared in their equal longing for the man who could not be there with them. Clarke wondered what other measures of comfort or brief moments of respite they may find in each other during their stay together in Polis, and she hoped that Abby might come to see Lexa the way that Clarke did. 

In Polis, Lexa was not only the Commander of the Coalition and the leader of the twelve clans, but she was also just Lexa. She could exist as both, and Clarke thought that just maybe she would be able to exist as her two beings here as well; the Ambassador of _Skaikru_ and Clarke, the girl who was broken but just starting to find healing in this place of life and the green eyes of the woman she was sure she was in love with. Lexa glanced at her as if inside her head, those emerald eyes that Clarke adored so much finding lust and longing in the oceans of blue that stared back at them.

"Your people love you, Commander," Abby said, breaking their moment. "That much is clear."

"I live to serve them," Lexa replied. "Just as I aim to serve yours."

"I think we have a lot o gain from each other," Abby answered, offering Lexa a slight smile for the first time.

The Commander nodded her agreement and motioned for the group to enter the building before her. "Please," she urged. "I will have the guards escort you to your chambers."

Abby and Kane accepted eagerly, following a group of guards into the tower. Indra, Octavia and Lincoln had long since wandered off into the crowds, leaving Clarke and Lexa to themselves. There was a small measure of space between them, warm and pulsing, and it was evident that they both longed to close it, though they somehow resisted the urge. Clarke turned to look back at the bustling streets full of people, listening to the sounds of laughter and vendors calling their wares and smelling the plethora of different foods cooking over open fires. Again, she thought the only word she could use to describe the city was alive, and that word gave her a rush of hope that she had been craving since the moment they'd left. They were home.

"I think that went well," Clarke offered even though she didn't feel the need to break the comfortable silence between them.

"I feared that it wouldn't" Lexa admitted.

"Why?" Clarke asked, surprised.

The Commander shrugged, glancing away to hide the blush in her cheeks. "I know that your mother is wary of this alliance," she said. "And judging by the glares I've been getting each time that I am near you, I would venture to say that she does not approve of...us," she hesitated as she struggled to find the right word to describe their current relationship. "I just wanted her to see my people for what they are and what they can be. And I wanted her to see that they approve of me as their leader, despite the beliefs of the Ice Nation and some of the ambassadors.”

"Lexa," Clarke started, feeling herself reach for the Commander's hand. Lexa let her take it, but for just a moment. "A blind person could see that your people love you."

"And I them," Lexa added.

"And anyone could see the way you love them," Clarke continued. "You love them fiercely and devotedly, and with such passion."

Lexa smiled at that, allowing a slight nod, and it sent chills shooting through Clarke's entire body. "Passion fuels progress, Clarke," she said. "And one day I hope that progress may spark peace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually start these things off by talking about the chapter, but I first just wanted to reiterate Lexa's last statement here and the truth of her words. I know that most of us in the US are a bit scared right now with the results of the election and all the turmoil that is gripping the country, and I just wanted to remind you guys to stay passionate about what you believe in. Fight for your own rights and for all that you care about because passion really does breed progress. And progress eventually breeds change. That being said, if anyone is a Trump supporter and I've offended you, well quite honestly I don't care. Sorry not sorry. Anyhow! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and the development of a friendship between Clarke and Octavia and a few of the bonding moments between Clarke and her mother. The next chapter we will get back to some of that Clexa fluff we love so much. Oh, and watch out for Jasper, that shifty little fuck.
> 
> See you next week!  
> -Alex


	9. Part Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Soooo, this chapter is pretty huge, not just in length but in regards to the plot line. You're gonna see some very familiar scenes from the show (written to fit my plot) because I really want to utilize those iconic Clexa moments. There's also some lightheartedness in the beginning of this chapter because going forward, it's going to get very intense. Enjoy drunk Clarke and over protective Abby ;)
> 
> See you at the end!  
> -Alex

"It is customary to celebrate the arrival of clan leaders in Polis with a feast," Lexa spoke from her position at the head of a long dining table later that evening.

She commanded the attention of every person in the room as she spoke, though her voice was no louder than a normal conversation and it was as if noise itself hushed just to better hear her talk. She wore a long black overcoat that flowed down to her ankles in the back and cut to thigh-length in the front. Where her metal shoulder guard and red cape had been strapped earlier, a thick rim of brown fur lined the collar and shoulders of her jacket. Beneath it, she wore a charcoal colored shirt that hugged her curves and the lines of her abs as it tucked into the tight waistline of black pants. Her boots were laced up to the knee, and though she was not armed, Clarke could make out the hilt of a dagger tucked into her left boot and she wondered if the Commander ever went anywhere without a weapon.

Clarke sat directly to the right of where Lexa stood, watching her intently as she addressed the room and feeling a familiar flush of warmth each time their eyes found each other. She could feel the penetrating gaze of her mother from where she sat directly across the table and she had to force herself not to let her infatuation with the Commander show too boldly on her face. Instead, she looked down the room to take in the view of the feast that had been laid out before them and the faces of the people who shared the table.

Kane sat beside Abby, leaning back in his chair as Lexa spoke, eyeing her intently with a look of respect and admiration on his weathered features. He reached forward and scooped a goblet of wine into his hand and Clarke briefly registered the way his fingers trailed across the back of Abby's wrist in a delicate touch so brief that she thought she may have imagined it. She blinked a few times until she was convinced that her mind was playing tricks on her and the confident lilt of Lexa's voice was pulling her out of her scrutinizing daze.

"Though you are not yet clan leaders, it is an honor to host the leadership and wise council of _Skaikru_ at my table," the Commander went on. "Let us feast together in friendship and with hope of a lasting alliance between Grounders and Sky People."

Clarke thought of the way Lexa's eyes glowed as if the forest itself lived within them and of her own that shined with the same blue as the sky above, and realized that it was fitting how the leader of the ground and the leader of the sky had somehow found each other. In that moment, their gazes met once more and melted together, earth and sky marrying each other, becoming one, just as their people soon would be. Clarke felt a sharp elbow burying itself in her side, wrenching her gaze away from the Commander as Octavia leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You're practically drooling over there, Clarke," she hissed. "Could you two be any more obvious?"

Clarke returned her elbow with slightly more vigor. "Shut up, O," she shot back.

Indra cleared her throat from the opposite side of the table where she sat across from Lincoln wearing a chastising scowl on her face. Clarke felt Octavia practically shrink beneath the discerning gaze of her mentor and she tried not to revel in it too much as she took a long drag from the chalice of wine in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lincoln shooting her a quick wink from where he sat on the other side of Octavia. 

The only person who had not made an appearance yet was Titus, though Clarke did not expect him to show seeing as he disapproved so adamantly of Clarke and the Sky People joining the Coalition. She idly wondered if his disdain stemmed from objection to the merger or from objection to her relationship with Lexa, but did not dwell on the prospect for too long as the Commander pulled her attention back in. 

"Let us drink and toast to the union of our two people," Lexa said, raising her glass. "May we finally find peace together as one.”

Clarke remembered the last time they had met around a table and toasted the prospect of an alliance and the hopes of a victory, and she recalled how it had turned out. Raven had ended up strapped to a pole, accused of trying to poison Lexa, and forced to bear the punishment of a traitor until Clarke discovered the true assailant, Gustus, who had hoped to shatter their alliance by making it seem as if _Skaikru_ deigned to kill the Commander. Clarke rose to her feet and lifted her glass into the air, clinking it together with the others around her before tilting it back to take another few swigs.

As if it had been timed, the doors swung open and a flood of servants entered the room, each carrying a large platter of food. One plate was stacked high with green and red grapes while another was laid out with various different cheeses. Entire loaves of bread appeared on the table followed by bowls of what looked like freshly churned butter. The center piece came in last, a whole roasted pig, golden brown to perfection and sizzling as wisps of steam rose off its skin, filling the air with the delectable scent of pork and bacon. It was entirely too much food for their little group and Clarke wasn't surprised when Lexa invited the guards and servants that lingered about the room to share in their meal with them; it was the Grounder way, after all, to provide for one another.

It wasn't until after every other person had filled their plates, including the servants, that Lexa took food for herself and sat with the rest of them. Again, Clarke's heart danced about in her chest, skipping beats and falling deeper with every gesture that Lexa made no matter how grand or how small. Whether it was risking her life to save a group of people that were not her own, or simply waiting patiently to ensure that others got their share before taking her own, every act that she performed was one of complete selflessness. Lexa must have felt the weight of Clarke's gaze on her because she glanced up and their eyes found each other almost instantly, and despite the noise in the room around them, it seemed as if the world had gone silent.

They stared at each other and Clarke found herself wishing for once that Lexa could actually read her mind so that she would not have to muster the courage to say everything unspoken that lingered in the space between them. She willed her to hear those three words that bubbled up behind her lips so that she would not have to say them aloud, because she knew the moment that she did, then it would be real. It was a feeling that terrified her and excited her at the same time, and she couldn't quite tell yet which emotion was stronger, only that everything she felt for Lexa was equally as strong.

Abby cleared her throat loudly, snapping them both out of their daze. "So, Lexa," she began, her voice was soft but Clarke could see the pointed look in her eye. "I can call you that right? Or should I call you Commander now?"

Clarke felt the sudden overwhelming urge to drink and quickly drained what was left in her glass, finding it being refilled again before she even had a chance to put it down. She wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but judging by the scrutinizing look her mother was throwing in Lexa's direction, she knew that she didn't want to be entirely sober for it.

Lexa glanced at Abby graciously, amusement dancing in the candlelit green of her eyes as she replied. "You may call me whatever you are comfortable with, Dr. Griffin." She smiled politely.

"Oh, Abby is fine," Clarke's mother corrected. "I think we're on a first name basis now considering you're sleeping with my daughter."

Clarke practically choked on the wine she'd been forcing down and erupted into a blast of coughing. "Really, Mom?" she staggered out, feeling as if every drop of blood in her body was now pooling behind her cheeks.

She watched as the amusement faded from Lexa's eyes and the color drained from her face and for the first time ever, her brow began to bead with nervous sweat beneath the scrupulous hazel eyes of Clarke's mother. The Commander, fierce and deadly warrior, leader of all that remained of humanity, the embodiment of wisdom and strength, was unnerved by Abby Griffin. Not able to find the right words, she simply gave a curt nod and found solace in the bottom of her own cup.

Clarke glanced to Kane and Indra for help but found only humor written on their faces as they both struggled to choke back laughter. She wanted to leap across the table and smack the grins off both of their faces, but instead resigned herself to shooting them each a seething glower. It was Octavia who jumped in to rescue what had been a disaster of an awkward silence.

"Hey, Clarke," she said, drawing the attention to herself. "I was just telling Lincoln about that time right after we first landed when I almost got eaten by that mutant water snake."

"Oh, yeah!" Clarke went along with it, doing all that she could to change the subject. "You stripped down and jumped into that river without a second thought and—

"So, Lexa," Abby said again, and Clarke let her words fall away so that she could catch the next words out of her mother's mouth. "How long have you been Commander?" she asked. 

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, chasing it down with another few swigs of wine. She'd forgotten just how strong the Grounder alcohol was and she was already starting to feel the effects of it in the warmth that flooded her limbs and the hazy feeling that clouded her mind. She knew she should slow down, but at the rate this dinner was going, she might be under the table by the end of the night.

Lexa smiled as she answered Abby's question, forcing the uneasiness away from her flawless features. "I was sixteen when the spirit of the Commander chose me to lead," she explained. "The sixth year anniversary of my ascension is in just a few weeks."

"Lexa has accomplished more for our people than any other Commander before in her time as Heda," Indra interjected, her tone laced with pride. 

“Is that so?” Abby questioned. Clarke caught the faint smile tugging at the corners of her mother’s mouth and she knew now that she was just instigating to get a rise out of Lexa. Still, it did nothing to sate the burning in her cheeks and she continued to try to drown her utter embarrassment with the wine that seemed to magically refill each time she drained her chalice.

“I intend to do more before my fight is over,” Lexa answered, eyes set with determination.

Abby jumped on the opportunity before Clarke had the chance to stop her. “And what are your intentions with my daughter?” she asked, hiding the grin on her face behind years of practice.

“Abby, don’t torture the Commander,” Kane cautioned, though his voice was light and dropped off into a low chuckle.

“Jake isn’t here to do the honors, so somebody has to have this conversation with her,” Abby shot back and Clarke felt as if she might die of the sheer horror behind it all. Her mother was giving Lexa, the Commander of the Coalition, the ‘if you hurt my daughter, I’ll hurt you’ talk.

Lexa seemed oblivious and unsure of the conversation going on in front of her, the joking nature lost somewhere in transition between _Skaikru_ and Grounder. “I am unsure what you mean…” she said, letting her voice trail off though her features showed no sign of annoyance. 

“I mean that everything that you do elevates her,” Abby stated. “Why?”

Lexa did not hesitate with her answer, bringing her eyes to meet Abby’s gaze and not wavering. “Clarke elevates herself,” she said. “She’s special.”

The doctor faltered at that, amusement draining from her face and replacing itself with something far more serious: pride. “Yes,” Abby said, looking towards her daughter. “She is. So don’t hurt her.”

Clarke blushed again, though she didn’t think that her cheeks could get any redder. “Mom, stop,” she hissed, hiding it behind another long gulp of wine that had begun to taste really similar to water.

“Sorry, honey,” she replied, shooting her a wink and taking a long drag from her own glass.

“Abby,” Lexa said, clearly not understanding the meaning of their exchange. “I assure you that my intentions towards your daughter are entirely honorable.”

Abby nodded, allowing her smile to fill her cheeks so that the Commander could take note of it. “I know, Lexa,” she stated. “Just keep her safe.”

Lexa nodded her understanding. “With my life.”

Clarke had to stifle a laugh. Maybe it was just the wine, but clueless Lexa was surely the cutest version of Lexa she had ever seen, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and pull her into a passionate kiss. Even while the mood was light, somehow Lexa managed to maintain her air of wisdom and guidance and it seemed almost out of place amongst the light-hearted joking and teasing from her mother. 

She couldn’t stop herself when she slid her hand over the tabletop and scooped Lexa’s palm into her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. At first, Lexa was stiff in her grasp, glancing back and forth between Clarke and Abby and trying to keep the shock from her eyes, but after a slight smile from the doctor, she relaxed and laced her fingers through Clarke’s pulling their entwined hands beneath the table to rest in her lap.

After that, the conversation came easy. They talked and laughed long into the night, sharing stories from Clarke’s childhood on the Ark or listening to the way Lincoln described his childhood adventures alongside the fearless Commander. The wine flowed as freely as the conversation, and it wasn’t long before words became slurred and voices became husk. Clarke felt the haze of alcohol cloud her vision and found that it only made the green of Lexa’s eyes brighter and the pull towards her lips so much stronger. 

She was practically coming undone by the time the others began to excuse themselves for the evening and their dinner party climbed down to its last dying embers. Clarke watched as Lincoln and Octavia disappeared through the doorway, hand in hand and heading down the hall with determination, and she didn’t miss the way Kane’s arm lingered a little too long around Abby’s shoulders as he guided her from the room. She didn’t know what to make of their sudden intimacy, but her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Lexa’s body and the way the Commander trembled beneath her touch to care about anything else.

Indra was the last to go, bowing in respect to her Heda and bidding them both a goodnight before sweeping out of the room and casting them a knowing glance over her shoulder. Clarke was practically yanking Lexa out of her chair and dragging her to the elevator doors that stood open waiting to lift them up to their bedchambers at the top floor of the tower. The sentries slid the doors shut behind them and she let the flood gates break, the hours of restraint and yearning coming to an end in one swift motion as she threw herself into the Commander’s arms.

The kiss was hot and burning as she dug her hands through the hair at the base of Lexa’s neck and pulled her in deeper, letting their tongues dance together as Lexa opened her mouth to greet her. She tasted of wine and salt and something sweet and Clarke wanted nothing more than to taste the rest of her body, shoving her against the wall and drawing a sharp gasp from Lexa’s lips as they parted for only a moment to catch their breath. Then their mouths were together again, devouring each other’s passion as a guttural moan ripped its way up from the back of Clarke’s throat.

The doors creaked behind them, pulled open by the guards on the other side and they quickly parted, trembling and gasping for air as the sentries eyed them warily. “Sorry,” Clarke muttered, but didn’t hesitate as she grabbed Lexa’s hand and yanked her out of the elevator. She knew that the Commander was shooting the two men a glare that dared them to utter a word of this to anyone, and she stifled a laugh as she pulled her towards the bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

She practically slammed the doors shut behind them, echoing the banging noise they made by throwing Lexa’s body into them and pressing herself close to the Commander again. She could feel the way Lexa’s breath shuttered against her lips and the rapid beating of her heart where their chests pressed together, and Clarke found herself kissing her again. She drew Lexa’s bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, smothering the moan that escaped Lexa’s lips with another burning kiss. Her hands gripped Lexa’s hips, tangling themselves in the fabric of her jacket as she pulled her away from the door and backed her up to the bed until they were collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs and lust.

“Off,” Clarke commanded, yanking back the sleeves of the Commander’s jacket and practically tearing it away from her arms.

Her mouth found Lexa’s lips, letting their tongues swim together for a moment before she made her way down Lexa’s sharp jawline, trailing hot kisses across the prominent bone. Clarke’s hands ached to feel bare skin beneath them, tingling with want and desire that she had to sate, shoving them beneath the Commander’s shirt and devouring the length of her body as her mouth closed around the soft skin at the base of Lexa’s neck. Lexa’s eyes were hazy in the candlelight, her pupils blown out with desire as she watched the way Clarke’s hands roamed over her body under the thin fabric of her shirt.

“Off,” Clarke commanded again, and Lexa obeyed, lifting her shirt over her shoulders and throwing it across the room where it landed in a heap on the floor.

Instantly, Clarke’s mouth was roving its way downward, her tongue raking across the rigid lines of Lexa’s abs. Her teeth nipped at the prominent lines of the Commander’s hip bones and she loved the way that Lexa gasped for breath and bucked upward beneath her. She could see the way Lexa was coming undone, the stoic and ever-strong Commander trembling beneath her touch and aching with need beneath her kiss. She wanted to taste Lexa’s desire where she knew that it was pooling hot and sticky between her thighs, matched only by Clarke’s own want and need dripping from her own center. She found her fingers dipping just below the fabric of Lexa’s waistline, aching to roam further, but a jolt from Lexa had her stopping short.

“Clarke, wait,” Lexa gasped, her eyes slightly wider though still tinged with lust. “Wait,” she gasped again.

“What?” Clarke rasped, her voice haughty and rough. “What’s wrong?”

Lexa hesitated a moment, as if forcing the words out. “You’re drunk,” she stated.

“So?” Clarke asked, though found her hand withdrawing from the Commander’s pants. “I’m not that drunk,” but even as she said it, she could hear the slur in her own voice.

 

“Clarke…” Lexa began, but her voice trailed off as Clarke began pressing kisses to the line of her hip again. “Clarke, we can’t,” she said, this time lending whatever strength she could muster to her voice.

“Why?” Clarke asked, suddenly self-conscious. “You don’t want this?”

Lexa shot up. “Of course I do, Clarke!” she replied so quickly that it left little doubt in Clarke’s mind. She reached out and cupped Clarke’s face gently in her hands, drawing her eyes towards her own so that their gazes met. “It’s just, when this does happen, I want it to be because you’re sober and you want it, not because your actions are being fueled by liquid courage.”

“I do want this, Lexa,” Clarke replied, though the rasp in her voice had begun to fade. “I want you.”

“I want you too, Clarke,” Lexa answered, letting her hands fall to Clarke’s wrists so that she could pull her back up the length of her body until their faces were only centimeters apart. “But I would not feel right taking advantage of the state you are currently in.”

Clarke sighed, resigning herself to defeat and knowing that Lexa had far too much respect for her and their relationship to give in to the temptation that was burning hotter than the sun between them. She pressed a gentle kiss to the Commander’s lips and it was soft, flooded with the need to show her all the emotions raging like an untamable storm within her heart. The desire was still there, but it was sated and controlled, forced back into submission as Clarke shifted to the side and let her right arm wrap around Lexa’s waist.

She propped herself on her left elbow and stared down into the Commander’s eyes, drawing strength from the lingering remnants of ‘liquid courage’ as Lexa had called it. “Lexa,” she whispered, and there were so many different things she wanted to follow up with. “What is it called in your culture when two people are in a relationship together?” she asked.

Lexa looked at her, amusement brimming in her eyes, though she did not let it show on her features. “Committed,” Lexa replied, simply.

“Oh,” Clarke answered, trying her best to swallow a yawn. “That makes sense,” she added, pressing another kiss to Lexa’s lips.

“What is it called to your people?” the Commander asked, indulging the sleepy drunk girl.

Clarke smiled, as if she’d been waiting for the question. “Well, if you’re committed to a girl, then she’s called your girlfriend, and visa versa for boys,” she explained.

“Ah,” Lexa smiled. “I see. So I would be your girlfriend, then?” she asked.

“Do you want to be?” Clarke replied, trying not to choke at how cheesy it had sounded, though she was sure Lexa wouldn’t have understood the humor in it anyway.

Lexa’s smile widened and her eyes glowed even brighter in the dim candlelight. “Clarke,” she whispered. “I’ve been committed to you since the moment I found you in that forest. I am yours.”

“I’m yours too,” she breathed.

Clarke let her own smile reach her eyes and she hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath for the answer. Of course it wouldn’t have been anything other, and it gave her hope that maybe Lexa felt just as deeply as she did. She bent down and closed her lips around Lexa’s once more, willing her to feel the extent of her emotions through the space in which their lips met. Pleading without words for the Commander to realize just how much she loved her.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke drifted violently, tumbling through the infinite blackness of oblivion like a ship tossed about in a raging storm. She hit solid ground with a heavy _thud_ that knocked the breath from her lungs as her vision swam dizzily into focus. From somewhere above, a light clicked on, chasing away the darkness and illuminating the room in front of her. She was in a brightly lit hallway, the cement walls reflecting the searing fluorescent light as it burned into her eyes and pulled her gaze to the wooden doors at the end of the hallway.

Suddenly, she was very aware of exactly where she was and she felt a deep ball of dread twist in her stomach like a dagger. She knew that something wasn't quite right, that Bellamy and Monty should be with her, but she found herself alone, listening for the sounds of agonizing moans and painful cries just beyond the door. None came, and instead the weight of silence crushed down on her like lead, ringing in her ears so loudly that she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming beneath the pressure of it.

Her feet pulled her forward as if they acted upon will of their own, drawing her towards some inevitable irresistible force beyond the doorway. Clarke knew what she would find on the other side, she had been there before. She knew there would be exactly three hundred dead bodies behind that door, sprawled out on the floor, hunched over the dining tables, collapsed against the walls, all of which would have lifeless eyes staring back at her as if peering in to her soul. She knew their endless gazes would feel like hot spotlights against her skin, questioning, pleading, accusing, and yet her feet pushed her forward still.

She found her palms against the doors, freezing to the touch and sending a nauseating wave of icy chills down her spine as the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. She wanted to close her eyes, to squeeze them shut so that she would not have to bear witness to the death she'd wrought, but even her eyelids refused to obey her as she shoved through the double doors and into the dining hall of Mount Weather. What she came face to face with on the other side was not at all what she expected, but it still stole the breath from her lungs and the warmth from her heart.

The bodies were gone, replaced by the serine scene of the empty dining hall, complete with a full feast laid out across the table as if awaiting the arrival of the diners who had long since passed from this world. There were no bubbling faces or lifeless eyes, no children clutching desperately to their mothers, no faces contorted in infinite agony, no horrors at all really. The room was completely still, almost peaceful, if it were not for the faint sound of sobbing coming from the far end of the hall.

Clarke's legs again moved of their own volition, pulling her towards the direction of the sounds as if drawn to them like a magnet. As she neared, she could make out the figure of a boy hunched over a body, clutching her to his chest and huddling over her limp frame as tears drenched his face. He looked as if his entire world had been ripped to pieces, shredded before his eyes and thrown back in his face as he struggled to contain the uncontrollable sobs that wracked through his lanky body. The girl in his arms hung lifeless and wide-eyed, her expression terrified and twisted in pain beneath a wild fringe of unruly black hair.

"Jasper," she whispered when she was only a few feet away.

His head snapped up, taking in her appearance as surprise and then seething anger shifted across his features. His hair was long again, shaggy and brown and hanging over puffy, red eyes that were far too swollen from crying as if he had spent an eternity locked in this moment. His button down blue shirt was tinged darker in areas, soaked with blood that wasn't his own. His skin was pale and pasty, drenched with sweat that clung to his forehead and neck in thick droplets and his brown eyes were wild with rage as he glared at her.

"You did this," he whispered through gritted teeth. "This is your fault."

Clarke held up her hands, palms forward, to show that she meant no harm though she knew that the harm had already been done. "I'm sorry," she said, lending strength to her voice.

His gaze darkened as he set the girl's body aside, tenderly as if afraid he might still hurt her, and then rose slowly to his feet. "Why?" he asked, jaw working back and forth. "Why did you do this?"

Jasper made a sweeping motion with his arm, as if to include the entire room, and Clarke hesitantly turned to see the three hundred bodies that had been missing now right where they were supposed to be. The smell of burnt and rotting flesh hit her like a blow to the stomach, and she doubled over, clutching her knees and trying not to heave as tears pricked behind her eyes. There were so many of them, faces buried in plates of unfinished food, sprawled out across the floor, clinging to each other as if it might save their lives. So much death brought on by her actions.

"I didn't want this," she croaked, finally finding the will to move her legs as she backed slowly away from the boy who looked like he wanted to murder her. "I didn't have a choice," she pleaded.

"You're wrong, Clarke," he snapped, voice menacing. He took a step towards her, reaching behind his back to pull something out of the belt of his pants, yanking it free and pointing the dangerous end of a gun in her direction. "We always have a choice."

"Jasper, wait I—

"You made the wrong one," he said. He didn't even blink as he pulled the trigger.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Clarke snapped awake in Lexa's bed, sure that the banging she'd heard was the remnants of her nightmare and yelped loudly in surprise when the solid knocking came once more. She reached out, feeling the cool empty space in the bed beside her where Lexa should have been and glanced up to see the Commander staring at her from where she sat on the couch lacing her boots with concern written on her usually impassive features. She was already dressed for the day, clad in her shoulder armor with red cape spilling out elegantly behind her and green eyes framed in thick black war paint. She appeared as if ready to charge into battle with her sword strapped to her waist, though Clarke knew the only battle she'd be fighting that day was with the council of ambassadors as she informed them of her intentions to make _Skaikru_ the thirteenth clan.

"Are you well, Clarke?" she asked, ignoring the persistent knocking at the door. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," Clarke returned, but the constant pounding wasn't doing anything to help sate the pounding in her own head. She recalled how much she had drunk the night before and was now instantly regretting it. "Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, tell whoever that is to politely fuck off," she grumbled.

Lexa hid the smile that flashed across her mouth, rolling her green eyes as she stood to cross the room. She reached the door and wrenched it open, straightening her spine and looking as if she would kill the person on the other side for the intrusion of her morning routine, but the smile that she had been trying to hide spread wide across her features as Aden swept into the room. He didn't even wait for an invitation, clad in his black novitiate robes with his sandy blonde hair falling over his green eyes as he whirled around on the Commander.

"Aden?" Lexa asked, arching a perfect brow and swinging the door shut behind her. Clarke sent a silent 'thank you' out to the universe that she had been too drunk to remove any of her own clothing last night and Lexa had been too chivalrous to try.

"So you are back," he commented, his tone flat and eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you come find me last night?" he asked.

Lexa looked taken aback, but amused nonetheless. "There were important matters to attend to," she replied.

"Lexa, you have been gone for a week and I didn't know when you'd be back or if you were hurt or..." he trailed off, looking entirely worked up as he began pacing the room. His eyes caught Clarke where she sat in bed, still beneath the duvet, as if noticing her for the first time. "Oh, hello, Clarke," he said, giving her a gentle wave before returning to his rant. "My point is, you have people that care about you and you need to respect that."

Clarke had to press her lips together to keep from laughing at the way this twelve-year-old boy scolded the Commander. Lexa drew in a breath, putting on her haughty look of leadership as she closed the space between herself and Aden, placing each of her hands on his shoulders as she drew in his gaze. “Aden,” she said, keeping her tone level. “What does _Fleimkepa_ say about love?”

“Love is weakness?” Aden replied, a big question mark written across his young features. “Yeah, well Titus also says that to be Commander is to be alone, but that doesn’t keep Clarke out of your bed does it?” he asked, voice lofty with protest.

Lexa cracked a smile at that, no longer able to keep a straight face as melodic laughter bubbled up over her plump lips and Clarke had to fight the warmth pooling between her thighs. “You’re right,” Lexa winked. “If we lived life by Titus’s rules, a dull life it would be.”

Aden smiled at this, brightly, so that it reached all the way to his eyes. “So we don’t have to listen to the _Fleimkepa_?” he asked, hopefully.

“No, Aden, that only applies to me,” she answered, ruffling his hair atop his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to find you when we arrived,” she continued on, all joking gone from her voice.

He eyed her a moment, warily as if about to protest, but then sighed and let his shoulders fall, reaching out and placing his own hand atop her shoulder so that they were in sort of a half-embrace. “I’m just glad that you made it back safely,” he whispered. “Though I would like to hear the outcome of your journey.”

“And you will,” Lexa replied, standing up straight and letting her arms fall back to her sides, the tenderness gone from her voice. “Gather the other novitiates and join me in council today. I would like you there to bear witness and learn from a…historic event,” she said, lingering on the last few words as if unsure what to call their impending merger.

Aden bowed respectfully and let out a curt, “Yes, Heda,” before turning to leave, but he stopped in his tracks halfway to the door. He turned around and darted towards Clarke pulling her into an awkward half hug where she was still in bed and he kept two feet firmly planted on the floor, not wanting to invade Lexa’s bed.

Clarke laughed, the sound muffled in the swaths of Aden’s robes. “Good to see you too, Aden,” she said.

“Thank you for getting her back safely,” he whispered, taking in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky stream. He sniffed the air a few more times before pulling quickly away and putting himself at arm’s distance. “Clarke, you smell like the back alley of a tavern,” he mused.

Clarke felt her cheeks go hot as she rolled over and buried her face beneath the pillow to hide her embarrassment. “I feel like the back alley of a tavern,” she grumbled.

She heard Aden’s laughter but missed whatever else he said as she dug herself deeper into the pillow, trying to block out the light and sound that stung her senses. She heard the door shut, and a few moments later, soothing hands were running up and down her back as the bed dipped beneath Lexa’s weight beside her. She rolled over, emerging back into the world of the living and scooted so that her head rested in Lexa’s lap and she was looking up at her.

“Hi,” she whispered, the memories of the night before flooding back to her mind now that she was more fully awake. She’d gotten drunk and then sloppily tried to seduce Lexa and ended the night asking her to be her girlfriend in the corniest of ways. What a disaster.

“Hi” Lexa answered, pushing the hair off of Clarke’s face as she leaned down to kiss her. “He’s right, Clarke, you stink,” she said, though a smile tugged at her lips and she didn’t try to pull away.

Clarke huffed. “I’m sorry about last night,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” Lexa replied, green eyes swimming with sincerity.

She smiled, feeling the warmth and ease that came with being with Lexa. There would never be any judgments passed between them. “Did you mean what you said?” Clarke asked, letting her reservations win out. “About being committed?”

“Of course,” the Commander answered without hesitation, bending down to press another kiss to Clarke’s lips before standing up. “I am yours, Clarke. But I also belong to my people. I hope that you understand this.”

“I do,” Clarke nodded. She knew that Lexa would always belong to her people first, but now part of her belonged to Clarke too, and it was enough to send an avalanche of butterflies tumbling through her stomach.

Lexa nodded once, curtly, in the way that she did when she was getting down to serious matters. “Now, do you want to talk about that nightmare you were having before we were…interrupted,” she asked as she straightened her shoulder guard into place.

Clarke considered it for a moment, but decided that she didn’t want to keep Lexa from her council meeting knowing that the sooner it was over, the sooner Skaikru would be safe. “I’m okay,” she supplied instead. “Just the usual stuff.”

“We do what we must for our people, Clarke,” the Commander reminded her, knowing all too well the dreams that haunted them both in the night. “And sometimes the right choices are the hardest ones to make.”

“How long will the council meeting take?” she asked, changing the subject.

Lexa sighed looking woeful as if Clarke had reminded her about some impending doom. “Likely all day. I will send for you when we are ready to commence the ceremony,” she said, bending down to push one last kiss to Clarke’s forehead before heading towards the door. She stopped in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, throwing Clarke a sly crooked smile. “You should definitely bathe before then, Clarke,” she grinned. 

Clarke shot the back of her head a seething glare as the door swung shut behind her. She rolled over and buried her face beneath the pillow once more, promptly deciding that a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt anyone.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After Clarke had bathed and dressed for the day, somewhere close to noon, she wandered out of the Commander’s bedchamber in search of her mother, feeling the overwhelming need to have a real conversation with her. One that didn’t end in yelling or getting belligerently drunk, hopefully. She didn’t have to go far, finding her mother and Kane sitting in the same dining hall they had occupied the night before. They were wrapped in conversation, taking no notice of Clarke’s approach as she stood in the doorway, watching the way Kane ran his hand over Abby’s thigh as they spoke in hushed tones.

She cleared her throat, drawing their attention to her as both of their heads snapped up and Kane’s hand shot back behind his head as if Abby’s leg had suddenly been made of molten lava. “Good morning,” she called, entering further in to the room and plucking up various different foods onto a plate so that she could try to force herself to eat.

“Hey,” Abby said, gently. “How are you feeling, Clarke?”

“Hello, Clarke,” Kane added, giving her a polite nod.

Clarke plunked herself down in a chair across from them and eyed them warily. They were dressed in typical _Skaikru apparel_ , jeans and t-shirts, and she sincerely hoped that they had brought something more formal for the ceremony later that night. “I’m fine, no thanks to you,” she answered, feeling the disdain in her voice.

“Oh, come on, honey,” Abby said. “I was just having fun.”

“A little _too_ much fun,” Clarke grumbled under her breath so that only she could hear. “Lexa will be in meeting with the ambassadors all day,” she said aloud. “I was wondering if you wanted to see the rest of the city. Maybe make a list of things you want to trade for once the merge is done.”

Kane nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Get some food in you, then we’ll go,” Abby answered, ever the doctor.

Clarke nodded and took a bite of bread, though it tasted sour in her mouth and she instantly wished that she hadn’t drank the night before. She sat and forced down as much food as she could while she listened to Kane and Abby discuss renovation plans they had for Arkadia once they had the supplies from Mount Weather. She found that what helped her most was water, and downed nearly a gallon of it before she finished what meager rations she’d supplied on her plate. She stood, pushing her chair back from the table, already feeling infinitely better than she had before she ate.

“Where’s Octavia and Lincoln?” she asked as Kane and Abby followed her to the elevator. The guards pulled the doors open for them and they began their long trek downward from about midway up the tower.

“They joined us for breakfast and then headed out to some training ground to begin work for the day. Indra isn’t wasting any time,” Kane explained.

Clarke knew they must be at the novitiate training ground, though the novitiates would be in council with Lexa all day. She idly wondered how Bellamy, Raven, and Pike were faring on their trip to Mount Weather and what supplies they would find. The image of three hundred bodies flashed through her mind and she pushed it away, choking back the bile in her throat at the thought of her people having to remove the dead from the dining hall. She was glad that she wouldn’t have to see it, but the majority of her emotions were those of crushing, daunting, guilt.

The metal doors groaned open again once they reached the ground floor, exiting into a hallway that was illuminated by glowing torches along the wall. Towards the end, the bright light of day flooded into the tunnel, chasing away the shadows and the sounds of the city could be heard as people bustled about. Once they emerged, the noise was even louder and it seemed as if thousands more people occupied the streets now than had the night before, moving like the waves of the ocean, endless and ever constant.

Merchants hustled about, mad looks of panic written in their features as they jumped around trying to accommodate each person’s requests. Children weaved through the ankles of parents, shouting in joy and playing with the kids from other clans and other cultures. So many scents wafted in the air that it was hard to pick out any one in particular and the utter mass of people pressed so close together had humidity hanging thick all around them. It was truly a collaboration of people, working together to survive, putting their differences aside to provide for one another and again Clarke found herself in awe.

“The Grounders are nothing like we thought,” Abby noted, echoing Clarke’s thoughts from the first time she had wandered through the streets of Polis.

“I’m glad you’re here to see that,” she answered. Her people had a terrible misconception that plagued their image of the Grounder culture for far too long, and she was happy to see it rectified.

Kane wandered off like a lost kid in a crowd, dazzled by the sights and sounds around him and wanting to take in every moment of it. She noticed that he made an effort to speak to people, first in English and then in _Trigedasleng_ , asking them to translate meanings so that he could attempt to learn the language. For some reason, she found pride in that, and she hoped that all of her people would be willing to make the same effort one day. He smiled back at them when an older woman pressed what looked like a throwing knife into his hand and motioned for him to test it out on targets set up in front of a wall.

“So, you and Kane?” Clarke asked, turning back to her mother.

Abby’s eyes went wide for a moment and she looked slightly terrified, but there her features settled into somewhat of a bashful smile. “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “He’s a good man, Clarke.”

“I can see that,” Clarke replied, unsure how to feel about her mother with someone other than her father.

“He won’t ever replace your father,” Abby added, as if reading her mind.

“I just want you to be happy, Mom,” Clarke said, allowing sincerity to seep into her voice.

Their conversation was interrupted as Clarke felt a tug on the back of her shirt and she turned around to see a small child staring up at her. The girl couldn’t have been older than five or six, and the clothes she wore were far too large for her, sagging off her narrow frame. She had scraggly blonde hair, flying away in wisps from where it had been neatly braided to her scalp, and her blue eyes were bright and awe struck. She smiled bashfully behind a few missing teeth and Clarke noticed the little wooden toy dagger that hung limply in the waist of her pants.

“Are you _Wanheda_?” the girl asked, timidly.

Clarke hated the nickname. She hated what it inferred and hated how celebrated her actions were amongst the Grounders, but when this girl said it, she couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I am,” Clarke replied, bending down so that she could be eye level with the child. “And who are you?”

“Alexa,” the girl answered, voice coming a little stronger now that Clarke was on her level. “I’m named after the Commander, but I’m always you when we play fight!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, is that so?” Clarke asked. “Are you a brave warrior?”

The girl nodded proudly. “I’m the Commander of Death!” she shouted, drawing her wooden knife and slashing it about in the air.

Clarke found herself laughing again, the idea sounding even more ludicrous from a child’s mouth. “Just remember that violence does not always have to answer violence,” she said.

Alexa nodded again as if understanding but something else caught her vision and she scampered off in the direction without so much as a second glance. Clarke watched her go and rose to her feet, but a moment later a man approached her, giving her a bashful grin. He looked young, though still years older than Clarke and his kind blue eyes were framed behind a mane of a full-length black beard. His skin was bronzed, as if he’d spent his entire life in the sun and she wondered which clan he hailed from.

“I am sorry about that, _Wanheda_ ,” he spoke. “Thank you for indulging her.” He gave her one curt bow, a show of respect, before disappearing into the crowd after his daughter.

“ _Wanheda_?” Abby asked, staring after the duo.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “It means ‘Commander of Death’.”

“I gathered that much. But why?” she asked.

“For what I did in Mount Weather. I destroyed an enemy that they spent a hundred years trying to fight.”

"They respect you," Abby noted, watching another person give a sweeping bow to her daughter as they passed by.

"They do," Clarke agreed. "And they adore Lexa."

Abby nodded, face falling into thoughtful admiration. "I saw the way they approached her last night, calling her name and reaching out to her. Her people love her."

"And she loves them," Clarke added. "Despite all the politics and the threats from clan leaders, she treats them each with equal respect and kindness. She would give her life to ensure what was best for them."

"So, why is there so much dissension?"

Clarke sighed having wondered the same thing herself before meeting Nia. "The Ice Queen is power hungry. She believes that it is her given right to rule because Ice Nation is the strongest of clans, and there is power in having strength," she began, knowing that her mother would need a definitive explanation. "When Lexa chose to ally with us after we killed three hundred of her warriors, it made her look weak to the ambassadors. They wanted vengeance and instead she gave mercy, seeing the opportunity in working together to free our people in Mount Weather. When she left us that night at the Mountain and we defeated Mount Weather without their aid, it made her look weaker still..." she trailed off.

"And saving Farm Station from _Azgeda_ was...?"

"A slap to the face. Nia was in her own land; she felt it was in her rights to wipe out the intruders, especially after Pike and the rest started defending themselves. Lexa basically swooped in and overruled her in front of her own people."

Abby shook her head in understanding. "And what was your roll in all that?"

"To eliminate the prospect of Nia trying to pin her actions on Lexa's orders and to show that _Skaikru_ stands with the Commander," she said. "Lexa did most of the negotiating. I honestly thought Nia was going to have us killed on the spot," Clarke mused and then snapped her mouth shut, realizing that was probably not the best thing to say to her mother.

"I'm surprised Lexa allowed you to go anywhere near a dangerous situation," Abby stated.

"She didn't," Clarke answered. "But I can take care of myself, Mom. She knows exactly how I feel about that."

"And how do you feel about her, Clarke?" the doctor questioned.

Clarke suddenly felt like the open air of the market was suffocating and thin, full more of heat than of oxygen. She glanced around and spotted Kane chatting idly with a vendor, his expression furrowed in concentration as he focused on the _Trigedasleng_ words passing between them. She watched his hand gestures and the way he smiled when understanding registered on the vendor's face and she idly allowed herself to think that he was meant for this. He would be a great ally in keeping the peace between _Skaikru_ and Grounders.

"Clarke?" her mother questioned again, pulling her attention back in.

"I think you know how I feel about her," she stated, not intending for her tone to sound as sharp as it did.

Abby stared at her a moment as if trying to read her features. "Do you love her?"

"I— I don't know, Mom," she lied. "I've got so many emotions running through me right now, I can't even think straight." She hadn't even admitted the extent of her feelings out loud to herself yet, and she wasn't about to in a market place full of bustling people.

Her mother gave her a knowing sidelong glance, the type of glare that only mother's can give when they know their children are lying. "Well," she sighed. "If you ever need to talk, you know I'm here. I know I haven't been there for you much since your father died and I've done...some terrible things..." she trailed off. "I just want you to know I'm here, Clarke. I'm still your mother."

Clarke stared at her a moment, contemplating her words. She knew there was nothing that either of them could say to express the hurt and sorrow that they had shared, or the grief they'd caused each other. More so her mother than Clarke, though she knew she hadn't exactly made it easy for Abby once she made it to the ground. There were too many ghosts in their pasts and too many bones in their closets to ever be fully healed, much like the hole in Clarke's heart left behind after the decisions that had put it there. But this was a start in the right direction, and she felt a distinct wave of affection for the woman before her that she had not known in over a year.

She smiled so her mother could see, letting it reach to her eyes, the same eyes as her father. "Thanks, Mom," she said, leaving it simply at that.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke stood in her own room for the first time since her first night in Polis and immediately noted how empty and out of place it felt, almost as if she didn't belong there. Lexa had sent for her some time just before sundown, but instead of meeting her in the Commander's bedchamber, she had been whisked in the opposite direction to prepare for the ceremony. She was now trying her best to keep still as Alina, the freckle-faced servant girl, sat behind her weaving intricate braids and patterns down the back of her hair. They'd been at it for nearly an hour, and her scalp was starting to ache from the constant pulling and threading in different directions.

She felt a ball of nerves twisting itself in her stomach tighter than the braids in her hair and she wasn't sure of the source of her unease. Part of it came from the unknown. She had no idea what would be required of her during the ceremony or any inclination as to who would be there to bear witness. She thought of seeing Nia again and it instantly made her nausea worse, the knot in her stomach replacing itself with fear and bile. Clarke breathed deeply through her nose and let it out in one long shaky breath, and it was enough for Alina to pick up on her apprehension.

"Do not be nervous," the girl said, her voice soothing.

Clarke shrugged and then mentally kicked herself because there was a sharp tug on her hair immediately after. "I'm just not sure what to expect," she replied.

"The ceremony is quite simple. You will enter and bow before the Commander to show you loyalty, and then your chosen delegate will take the brand to consummate the allegiance."

She nodded, the thought of being on her knees in front of the Commander pulling warmth from all the wrong places at a moment like this. She hadn't imagined ever having to bow before anyone, and three months ago she would have spat in the face of anyone who tried to make her, but now the principal was not as unsettling as it seemed. She would have given her life for Lexa, perhaps having the opportunity to show it in one grand gesture would not be a bad thing. 

Alina gave her shoulder a gentle tap. "You're done," she whispered with a smile. "Have a look."

Again, Clarke felt nerves sweep through her as she rose slowly from the chair she'd been perched in and made her way over to the full-length mirror in her bathroom. A dress had been waiting for her on the bed when she'd arrived and Alina had helped her into it, lacing it in the intricate ways that always seemed to accompany Grounder attire. Then she had taken the time to paint a captivating pattern across Clarke's eyes in war paint before settling her into a chair so that she could set to work on her hair.

Clarke stared at her reflection now in the dim candlelight that washed the room in a soft shade of yellow, gasping at the person who stared back at her and wondering if she was even looking at the same person. The olive green dress clung tightly to the curves of her body in all the right places, hanging down to her thighs and dipping lower in the back, punctuated by her mile-long legs that were exposed beneath the short hem line. The corset flashed gold in the dancing light, dipping low between her breasts and she couldn't help but admire the way her cleavage looked. Her shoulders were adorned in leather the same color as her dress but cut into the shape of broad leaves that stuck gently to her skin. Her hair was woven back off her face, tucked into braids and pulled into tight patterns that extended back down the sides of her head, all meeting in one elegant pattern down the center of her scalp. What captivated her the most was how endlessly blue her eyes looked beneath the silver and black war paint that started beneath her eyes and ran in two straight lines back to her temples on either side. In that moment, in that outfit, she was not Clarke, she was _Wanheda_ , and for the first time ever, the thought thrilled her.

"It is time, Clarke," Alina called from behind her. "They're all waiting for you."

Clarke choked back her nerves, giving herself one last once-over in the mirror before heaving a sigh and following Alina out of the room. She made her way down the hallway, each step feeling as if it took longer than the last, the world moving in complete slow motion until she found herself standing just outside the throne room doors. Alina slowed her pace, nudging her forward with a simple nod of reassurance before heading off in the opposite direction; clearly the throne room was no place for a servant. As if on cue, the doors were pulled open from the other side by two sentries and Clarke found herself stepping into the room as if her body was no longer her own, drawn forward by some irresistible force.

The first thing Clarke noticed was the haunting lilt of a woman’s voice as she filled the air with the sounds of a beautiful slow melody, echoing loud off the vaulted ceilings. The room was lit by dozens of candles flickering gently in basins on the floor and casting light down from low hanging chandeliers, bathing the entire room in an entrancing yellow glow. A red carpet ran elegantly down the center of the hall, flanked on both sides by dozens of people; the ambassadors, leaders, and delegates there to bear witness to the ceremony she presumed. She knew that Kane and her mother were somewhere in the room, but she did not look for them.

Her gaze was pulled forward and her breath instantly caught in her chest, lost somewhere as her heart came to a complete stop. Lexa stood atop the altar at the front of the room, waiting for her with hands folded behind her back and her posture so rigid that it looked like she wasn’t even breathing. She wore a sleek black dress that flitted all the way to the floor, her waist wrapped in an intricate black leather guarder and her shoulders bare beneath thin straps. Her eyes were practically glowing their emerald green behind a single line of black war paint that ran straight across her nose all the way back to where it disappeared into the hairline at her temples. Her eyelids were dusted in a smoky charcoal color and the golden cog symbol of the Coalition sat between her eyes that were raking over Clarke’s body from head to toe. Her unruly brown hair had been tamed, pulled back off her face and woven into braids behind her head.

Lexa watched Clarke as she moved, swallowing thickly as Clarke made her way down the aisle towards her and the desire radiating between the two of them was almost tangible in the air. Clarke felt warmth flood her chest and down her thighs, thrumming so heavily in her blood that she had to force herself to breathe through it. Each step closer to the Commander sent a new wave of want and need, coursing through her veins, pounding behind her eyes, lighting each and every nerve ending on fire as if every fiber of her being reached out and ached for Lexa. 

By the time she found herself at the altar, standing before the Commander, the entire hall had faded away around them. The singing, though it was still droning on, was nothing more than background noise, and the weight of the people staring at them was just a gentle breeze. In a room full of people, they were alone, lost in each other as blue eyes melded with green, the sky and the earth becoming one. Clarke found herself kneeling without thought as if her body was acting on its own volition as she dipped her head down in a show of complete respect and utter surrender.

Suddenly she was very aware of her surroundings, her senses returning to her as reality set in again. She heard the sounds of the other occupants in the room lowering themselves to a knee, their clothes rustling gently like a soft wind through the trees. The singing hit a high point before drifting off on one final slow run and fading out all together, washing the room in a heavy silence. For a moment, all was still as if the entire world was holding its breath in anticipation. And then Lexa spoke.

“Hail warriors of the Twelve Clans,” she said, her tone commanding as it echoed off the walls around them. 

“Hail Commander of the Blood,” each person in the room replied at once, their voices melting together.

“Rise,” she advised them simply.

Clarke stood up, holding her gaze before sparing a quick glance around. She noticed for the first time that Titus stood beside Lexa clad in his traditional grey and black robes and wearing a bitter scowl, clearly disapproving of the entire affair but supporting his Commander nonetheless. She noticed Marcus and Abby off to the left, hardly dressed formally as they stood huddled between Octavia and Lincoln on one side and Indra on the other. She scanned the crowd, looking for Nia, but instead her eyes found the young prince of Ice Nation, watching the entire affair with amusement sprawled across his sharp features as if privy to some laughable secret that nobody else knew.

“We welcome _Skaikru_ to our halls in the spirit of friendship and harmony,” Lexa spoke again, drawing her attention back in. “And we welcome _Klark kom Skaikru_ , Legendary _Wanheda_ , Mountain Slayer,” she went on, listing the titles in order.

Clarke wasn’t sure if she should move to stand with the rest of her people or if she should remain before Lexa, watching intently as she addressed the room. The Commander held her gaze and gave her a slight nod of reassurance, so faint that only Clarke could catch it, but it was enough to settle her wandering thoughts. She stayed rooted to where she was, a foot away from Lexa, trying with everything in her to draw strength from the beautiful, deadly, strong woman that stood before her. The same woman that shared her bed and stole kisses in the middle of the night, and again she found herself wondering how Lexa could exist so flawlessly as two different people.

“The reason for this summit is clear,” the Commander continued on, letting her gaze flit across the leaders of the twelve clans. “We are here to initiate _Skaikru_ into the Coalition.”

Some voices and whispers of dissent erupted around the room, but Lexa pressed on, ignoring them and lending even more authority to her tone. “To symbolize this union, the leader of _Skaikru_ must bear our mark.”

Clarke glanced back at her mother and Kane and heard Abby as she whispered, “The honor is yours.” Kane looked up at Lexa, finding her eyes and nodding once, solemnly and with respect.

“Present your arm,” the Commander said, her voice again cutting through the whispers in the crowd.

Kane did as he was told without hesitation, rolling his sleeve up to his elbow and holding out his forearm to one of the ambassadors that pulled a red hot branding iron from the licking flames of a nearby fire. Almost methodically, the man pressed the iron to Kane’s skin, and it sizzled hot and loud through the room as Marcus grunted back his pain. Clarke was afraid to breathe for fear of smelling burnt flesh and being dragged back into memories that she had tried so desperately to repress, so instead she turned to Lexa, stopping dead as the doors to the throne room burst open.

Bellamy, Raven and Pike tumbled into the room, gasping for air and soaked in sweat as sentries flooded around them. Clarke’s eyes went straight to Bellamy, his skin blackened and smudged with what looked like ash and his brown hair caked to his forehead with sweat and grime. His eyes were wide and pleading, but there was a hollowness in them as if he had witnessed something so shocking that it clutched and clawed at his very core. He held a gun trembling in his hands but pointing it at no one and he looked as if he might collapse at any moment, chest heaving beneath his armored guard jacket.

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

Titus stepped forward, eyes seething. “What is the meaning of this?” he questioned through gritted teeth, voice full of malice.

“It’s the Ice Nation,” Bellamy breathed, still gasping for air. “They attacked us at Mount Weather, Clarke. We tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them.”

Raven stepped forward, putting her hand on Bellamy’s shoulder as if to lend him strength. “They had the self destruct codes for the entire facility, Clarke. It’s all gone,” she explained.

“How many of our people were killed?” Clarke found herself asking, speaking above the symphony of voices that had consumed the room.

Raven and Bellamy just stared at her as if no longer able to speak. Bellamy’s eyes fell away, shaking his head in an attempt to hold back tears. It was Pike who stepped forward. “Almost all of Farm Station,” he said, tone just barely loud enough to hear. “We couldn’t get them out in time. We’re the only ones who made it.”

Clarke felt her world shatter, sucking the breath from her lungs as tears pooled behind her eyes and she fought to keep them at bay. All of their effort had been for nothing. They’d risked their lives to rescue Farm Station, diving into enemy territory and orchestrating a union between _Skaikru_ and the Coalition, and still Nia had gotten her revenge. She spared a glance at Lexa, wanting nothing more than to find solace in the Commander’s strength, but her expression was filled with just as much anguish as Clarke’s and it served to only further her heart break.

The Ice Nation prince stepped forward, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. He was built, thick and muscular, brown eyes framed in the scars of Ice Nation beneath brown hair that hung down to his chest. He wore thick fur robes, heavy and cascading down to the floor as if winter itself lived within the hall and as he spoke, his voice burned with hatred. “You should have never moved your people back in to Mount Weather,” Roan growled, turning towards the Commander and throwing her an accusatory glare. “The Ice Nation did what Lexa was too weak to do.”

“This is an act of war,” Lexa seethed, tone bitter and Clarke had never heard her speak with so much guile. “Sentries, arrest the Ice Nation delegation!” she shouted. “Including the prince.”

Abby and Kane rushed forward to where Clarke stood beside Lexa as a group of guards swarmed Roan and his comrades. “We need to get home,” Abby said quickly. “If they attacked Mount Weather, Arkadia could be next.”

“I agree,” Kane added.

“Go,” Lexa stated without hesitation. “Marshall your forces. We will avenge the attack together.”

Abby turned towards her daughter, pleading in her eyes. “Come home with us,” she whispered. “Our people need you.”

“Clarke will be needed here,” Lexa interjected, instantly coming to her defense. The prospect of leaving one another terrified them both, and it shone brightly in the Commander’s eyes as worry flashed through them.

Clarke looked between Lexa and her mother, feeling torn between her head and her heart and not knowing which to choose. Her instincts told her that her people needed her, but her heart needed Lexa more than anything. Being back at Arkadia had only reminded her of that and of all the things that she’d been running from in the first place, and now she finally had the strength to stand and fight. But her fight would be better won in Polis, speaking on behalf of her people rather than fighting beside them. For now at least.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” she spoke. “I can do more for our people here. You know that.”

Abby looked taken aback, as if someone had slapped her, but she quickly hid her features behind a mask of practiced calm. “Okay,” she agreed, quickly turning to Lexa. “You keep my daughter safe,” she commanded.

Lexa gave her a solemn and sincere nod, eyes glowing fiercely in the flickering light as panicked and outraged voices rang out around them. “I will,” she promised.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke stood in front of the throne, waiting for Lexa as she escorted Titus from the room, sending him away with orders to report as soon as they’ve heard word from their scouts. The room had emptied out after the commotion, leaving behind the ambassadors (excluding Ice Nation) to discuss plans of war and how to proceed with their next moves. There had been protests of Clarke’s presence among them, but Lexa silenced them quickly, _Skaikru_ was the thirteenth clan now, and Clarke belonged in council. However, she could tell that not all clan leaders agreed with Lexa’s decision to include the Sky People in the Coalition, far from it, and she could taste the distrust and skepticism hanging stale in the bitter air. When the council adjourned for the evening, Titus had stayed behind to speak further on the matter, but now he was gone, leaving Lexa and Clarke alone in the room.

Lexa turned to face Clarke, her expression one of pure exhaustion, looking as if the weight she carried on her shoulders had increased tenfold during the events of that night. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line and her jaw worked itself back and forth as she chewed over words she couldn’t quite say. Her shoulders were still rigid as if she was on guard, waiting for someone to storm into the room at any moment and interrupt them. 

Clarke stared at her, wanting nothing more than to take the weight from her shoulders and carry it herself, though she could hardly stand beneath her own. She didn’t quite know what to say, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you for trying to protect my people,” she whispered.

“Our people,” Lexa quickly corrected her, taking a few steps forward to close the distance between them.

Clarke moved in to meet her, wanting nothing more than to fall into her arms and stay there until the end of the world came around again. She thought of the way Lexa had tried to leave her behind before going to Ice Nation and the fierceness in which the Commander deigned to fight her battles for her. It made her heart ache and her throat dry behind a thick swallow.

“Lexa,” she breathed. “If you try to leave me—

“I won’t,” Lexa said, cutting her off before she could lend voice to the rest of the thought and taking another long stride forward. 

Their eyes met, clearly holding each other’s gaze even in the dim light as the world closed in around them. Lexa breathed deeply, her eyes flicking across every feature of Clarke’s face, lingering slightly on her lips before she let out a heavy sigh. What she did next was so surprising that it had Clarke’s heart skipping erratically in her chest and her entire body trembling in both astonishment and need. She humbled herself before Clarke, lowering to her knees and bowing in a gesture so grand that it nearly sucked the air from the room. The Commander bowed for no one, yet her she was, bowing for Clarke, green eyes pleading as she glanced up.

“I swear fealty to you, _Klark kom Skaikru_ ,” Lexa began, voice strong and reassuring as if this was the most certain thing in the world. “I vow to treat your needs as my own, and your people as my people.”

Clarke stared down at her, unable to find the words to express how much the gesture meant to her, unable to lend voice to the emotions that were whirling like a hurricane inside her head. She reached down, offering her hand out to Lexa and gently pulling her to her feet. Lexa’s eyes were cast downward, eyeing the space where their hands clasped, but she slowly raised them to meet Clarke’s own unwavering gaze. They stood there, staring at each other, both lost in their own worlds yet clinging so tightly to one another that the world they were actually in might implode should they ever let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, yeah. Pretty heavy towards the end there, obviously. Nia made her move against Lexa and the Sky People and we got the ever iconic Bow^TM. It's clear the direction the next chapter will be heading in, and after that we will be veering away from the show and going off on our own little adventure, but these particular moments, in my opinion, are vital to what makes Clexa so special, so I have to write them. So, in summation: drunk Clarke is a corny mess, Abby is warming up to Lexa, clueless Lexa is adorable, and Ice Nation are a bunch of twats. Hope you guys enjoyed and I'll be back next week with another update.
> 
> -Alexandra


	10. Part Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gays! I'm going to start this off by saying this is a monster of a chapter and it's packed with plot and action and emotions, and I just really hope you guys enjoy what I did with it and how I've incorporated some key moments here. This shit is next level epic, enough said.
> 
> -Alex
> 
> p.s. I have to throw in a trigger warning for a character death here.

Clarke hadn’t slept. She’d been too exhausted emotionally, wounded and distraught by the Ice Nation attack on her people in Mount Weather, and her thoughts wouldn’t still long enough to grant her peace. They had known _Azgeda_ would move against _Skaikru_ , but to have done it so soon was too bold, even for Nia. Destroying the facility in Mount Weather had not only killed the members of Farm Station that had been inside, but had also eliminated the prospect of using any supplies within. That meant no new weapons, no upgrades to the medical bay at Arkadia, no extra stores of food and ammo. _Skaikru_ would be vulnerable, especially during the winter months.

It didn’t help that Lexa had not come to bed, and Clarke had not been able to find sleep without the Commander by her side, wrapped in her warmth and comfort. The council had adjourned but she’d slipped away to take care of other matters on the side and had not disclosed to Clarke where she was off to. However, it became increasingly obvious now that Clarke was sitting in the middle of the throne room, the council of the Coalition gathered around her, and waiting for the arrival of Queen Nia herself. Lexa must have spent the night working with her scouts and warriors to bring the Ice Queen in to face an urgent trial.

Clarke glanced around and watched as the ambassadors and clan leaders eyed her warily, some looking apprehensive, as if unsure she belonged there, and some looking down right opposed. She had done her best, despite the dark bags under her eyes and the obvious weight of exhaustion that sat heavy on her shoulders, to appear unfazed by the ordeal. She wanted to appear strong, like a leader going to war, and not like a child who had just lost a group of people she would have sacrificed herself to protect. 

Her blonde hair fell in long straight waves over her shoulders and down her chest, and she had dressed herself completely in Grounder attire, attempting to show respect to the clan leaders by forsaking her _Skaikru_ clothes and weapon. She was _Wanheda_ now, arranging her features in the most impassive expression should could muster as she sat back in her chair directly to the left of the throne, legs crossed and meeting the gaze of anyone who stared in her direction for too long. She let her eyes challenge anyone that dare question her presence, backed by the faint awareness that Lexa was looking on at her in approval.

The Commander sat in her throne, legs crossed, and arms resting against the worn wood as she leaned back, slowly rapping her fingers as if subconsciously counting the seconds that passed. She had changed at some point, though Clarke did not know when because she hadn’t been back to their room, and was now dressed in her daunting shoulder armor, red cape flowing down beside her. As always, her boots were strapped up to her knees where tight black pants were tucked into them. She wore a long sleeve leather coat beneath her armor that was fastened down the front of her body, clasped into place by various ties and straps and the sleeves disappeared beneath two wrist bracers that snaked over her knuckles like a skeleton. Her unruly brown hair was tied back off her forehead and cascading down her back in wild waves and her emerald eyes glowed with a fierceness that Clarke had never seen before. 

She looked positively lethal, like a snake curled and waiting to strike, though her empty expression gave nothing of what she was thinking away. If Clarke had not known how to read the emotions in her eyes, she would have thought that Lexa appeared bored, but beyond the façade she could see the anger seething beneath, controlled and tame, but boiling there nonetheless. Two guards flanked the Commander on both sides, clutching spears and standing at attention in full armor, ready to give their lives to protect Lexa should the need arise. Titus stood just off to the right of the throne, his ever-constant grey and black robes billowing down to the ground in folds as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.

The steady whispers in the room fell silent as Lexa raised a single hand, bringing their voices to an utter halt. “Ice Nation has committed a grievous offense,” she began, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “A clan that stands against one of us stands against us all.”

Lexa’s tone was flat but strong, as if stating a simple fact but also burning with threat, daring anyone to protest against her words. Clarke glanced around at the other ambassadors in the room, trying to read anything in their facial expressions as they listened to the Commander speak. They each sat in their own ornate chairs, adorned with the flag of their nation and arranged in a half circle around the throne so that they could all easily see one another and Lexa where she sat at the head of the room. 

It was clear that the ambassadors hailed from all walks of life, their ages and skin tones varying as freely as their different attire, but they all wore the same attentive expression as Lexa addressed them. It occurred to Clarke that she and Lexa were in fact the youngest people in the room, and it sent a rush of warmth through her to see the way a few clan leaders that easily tripled Lexa’s age bowed and nodded their heads in respect. Not all the ambassadors appeared as awestruck as some, and some looked far less than pleased, as if just humoring the Commander because they had no other choice. There was a clear divide amongst them that was growing ever more evident with each passing second like a canyon was being ripped open right down the center of the room.

A moment later, Titus lifted his arm, motioning to the sentries that stood on duty at the back of the room as he spoke. “Bring in the accused,” he said, his tone as empty and hollow as his black eyes.

The doors were yanked open and no more than a second later, Queen Nia dragged herself into the room flanked by an additional two guards. Clarke felt her heart leap into her throat as a frozen chill shot down her spine, her body instantly protesting at being so near to this woman. Nia was clad in thick grey furs that swept over her arms and down to the floor, strapped across her chest in place by a thick buckle just above her waist. Her expression was burning beneath pale white skin, a stark contrast to the air around her, as if winter itself gusted into the room when she entered. She carried ice in her veins and shot ice like daggers with a gaze aimed pointedly and purposefully in Clarke’s direction, her blonde hair pulled away from her scarred face and missing the crown of skull and ice she had worn the last time they’d seen each other. 

Nia’s wrists were bound in shackles, but she didn’t struggle against her restraints as the guards led her to halt just in front of the throne and shoved her down to her knees before Lexa. The Commander glared down at her, their eyes meeting in a soundless standoff, forest green eyes clashing in a battle with ice blue. Lexa’s expression was empty, impassive beneath high cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted brow. It took every ounce of willpower in Clarke’s body not to yank a spear from one of the sentry’s grasp and drive it through Nia’s chest as she glared up at Lexa with a smug grin plastered across her cold features.

It was Titus who broke the silence again, moderating the trial in his monotone voice. “Queen Nia of _Azgeda_ has confessed to the destruction of Mount Weather, resulting in the death of forty-nine members of _Skaikru_ ,” he stated, addressing the room before allowing his gaze to fall directly on Clarke. “ _Wanheda_ , what say you?”

Clarke felt the eyes of each person in the room drift towards her as she glanced towards Lexa, seeing her small nod of approval, urging her to speak. She mustered her resolve and her voice was as cold as Nia’s glare as she calmly said, “ _Skaikru_ demands justice.”

“ _Azgeda_ —

Nia began, but Titus quickly cut her off. “ _Shof op_!” he snapped, silencing her. She turned to meet his gaze as he looked down on her with disgust, and for the first time ever; Clarke felt appreciation for the Flamekeeper. “The punishment for your crime is death,” he stated. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I need no defense,” Nia replied, her voice was ice and again Clarke had to push back the foreboding sensation prickling at her spine. “She does,” Nia went on, turning her gaze towards where Lexa still sat stoically atop the throne. “It was Lexa who allied with _Skaikru_ after they burned three hundred of our warriors. It was Lexa who fled from Mount Weather to let _Skaikru_ fight our battle for us. It was Lexa who came into my nation and freed the Sky People who murdered my people in my own territory. I call for a vote of no confidence,” she finished, a grin that looked far too maniacal and confident spreading over her face.

Again, whispers sounded through the room, hissing off the walls as if the ambassadors had been replaced with snakes. If Lexa was fazed by the commotion, she did not show it on her features, her green eyes still locked with Nia’s in a silent battle. Clarke, on the other hand, was screaming in fear internally as she recalled the only two ways in which a Commander can be removed from power: by a unanimous vote, or by death. It became painfully clear why the Ice Queen had allowed herself to be apprehended so easily and had so willingly confessed to the destruction and slaughter at Mount Weather.

“Take Queen Nia to meet her fate!” Titus shouted over the noise that had filled the hall.

Before the guards could act, one of the ambassadors shot out of his chair, speaking out over the rest. “Not so fast!” he commanded. “ _No Heda no mo_ ,” he said, clearly casting his vote.

“ _No Heda no mo_!” Another voice echoed.

The woman sitting directly across from Clarke stood, meeting her gaze with such hatred and malice that Clarke felt like she might melt beneath it. “ _No Heda no mo_ ,” the woman said.

“Execute these traitors!” Titus shouted, pointing at the three others who had joined the Ice Queen’s plot.

“Wait!” Lexa’s voice rang out over everyone as she held up a hand, quickly silencing the room once more. “Let her make her move,” she said as Titus began to protest, her expression still impassive and her voice as calm as ever.

Three more cries of “ _No Heda no mo_ ,” echoed off the high ceilings as their owners rose to stand with Nia and the rest of her cohorts. There was a clear divide, resounding and evident in the angry faces of those who supported the Ice Queen, and the resilient expressions of the ambassadors that stood with Lexa, six and six.

“Commander, what is this?” Clarke asked, trying her best to keep the trembling from her voice and the worry from her face, though she was sure she failed in both regards.

Lexa kept her eyes on Nia as she spoke. “This is a coup,” she said, her tone low and menacing as those who plotted against her revealed themselves.

“This is the law,” Nia retorted, her supporters lending her the audacity to rise from her knees in front of Lexa as she cast a glance over her shoulder at Clarke, smugness written plainly across her face for all to see. “Her law,” she said, motioning with her head towards the Commander. “Unanimous vote of the ambassadors, or death, are all that can remove a Commander from power.”

“It’s not unanimous,” Clarke said, summoning strength into her voice. The threat against Lexa, her life, and her position as Heda, was enough to make her blood boil and her nerves turn to steel. She would not sit back and allow anyone to threaten Lexa, her Lexa, in front of her. Suddenly Clarke wished that she had bothered to strap her gun to her waist before leaving the bedchambers that morning.

The woman who sat directly beside Clarke stood up, the symbol on the banner over her chair clearly the emblem of _Trikru_. “It will never be unanimous,” the woman agreed, casting Clarke a firm nod.

“Lexa is a good leader,” another ambassador called and Clarke could not recognize the bold golden symbol over his chair. “The Valley people stand with the Commander.”

Arguing erupted but was quickly brought to an utter halt. “This vote of no confidence fails!” Titus shouted. “All of these coup plotters stand accused of treason and will suffer the exact same fate as the Ice Queen!” he continued on, using his hand to sweep a broad encompassing motion towards the six ambassadors that stood with Nia.

Nia glanced back at those who had shown her support, reading in their expressions the same looks of fear and trepidation that Clarke saw. She sighed and turned her gaze back on Lexa. “She won’t take our heads because she knows that our generals and our armies will retaliate. None of us here wants war,” Nia drawled, her words sounding almost convincing if not for the snide smile tugging at the corners of her treasonous mouth.

“We both know what you want, Nia,” Lexa said, her tone dripping with malice though her features were still blank. 

Clarke felt a wave of pride and the slight tinge of fear as she listened to Lexa speak, praying that she knew how to quell the situation before it went too far. Lexa was the embodiment of wisdom and cunning, possessing a knowledge that some don’t even know in an entire lifetime yet alone twenty-two young years, and it showed clearly in her actions and in her words. How anyone could question her rule was far beyond Clarke.

She watched as Lexa stood, rising slowly and imposingly out of the throne, red cape kissing the ground behind her as she descended the few steps down to stand face to face with Nia. “If you think me unfit to command,” she grinded out through a clenched jaw, bitter and steely. “Issue the challenge, and let’s get on with it.”

Nia’s eyes flickered with something akin to amusement, as if Lexa was playing the game exactly as she had anticipated. “Very well,” she whispered, so low that Clarke had to strain to hear it. “You are challenged.”

“And I accept your challenge,” Lexa replied without hesitation, never relinquishing hold on Nia’s gaze.

Titus’s ghastly complexion flushed even whiter as he stammered from foot to foot, glancing up at the ambassadors with fear in his eyes. “So be it,” he said. “Solo gonplei. Warrior against warrior,” he explained, eyes falling as he added, “To the death.”

Clarke swallowed back the lump in her throat, worry wracking through her body like a plague, eating away at her from the inside out. She peered around at the other ambassadors, each of which were exchanging foreboding glances, filled with apprehension and fear. She knew where this was going; understood now why Nia had attempted a coup without unanimous consent, knowing that it would be considered treason. _Unanimous vote of the ambassadors or death are all that can remove a Commander from power_.

“Queen Nia,” Titus pressed on. “Who do you choose to be your champion?”

Nia replied in an instant. “My son,” she said confidently, a cruel smirk playing at the edges of her mouth. “Roan, Prince of _Azgeda_.”

Titus nodded, his expression falling even grimmer still. “Heda,” he whispered. “Who will fight for you?”

Lexa turned her gaze away from the Ice Queen, allowing her eyes to meet Clarke’s for a moment, communicating a thousand unspoken messages between them. The glowing emerald green flickered briefly for a moment between confidence and fear before settling again on impassive. Clarke wanted to go to her, to reach for her hand and stand with her, a united force against Nia’s outward attack, but she knew any movement to protect Lexa would make the Commander appear weak in front of the ambassadors. She was at an utter loss, trapped in a battle with her head and her heart and knowing that she could do nothing to change what was happening now. Lexa broke their silent gaze, turning her back on Nia and the ambassadors as she climbed the steps to her throne and sunk confidently down into the chair once more.

“ _Ai laik Heda_ ,” she spoke, tone hard beneath an even harder expression. “ _Non na throu daun gon ai_.”

Clarke knew enough _Trigedasleng_ to understand Lexa’s words with complete clarity. Even if she hadn’t had a vague understanding of the language, the grin that spread across the Ice Queen’s face, wild and filled with bloodlust, was enough to say it all. And if not that, then the look of utter terror written in Titus’s features as he exchanged a glance with Clarke would have said the rest. _I am the Commander. No one fights for me_.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke pushed her way into the throne room for the second time that day, determined to do all that she could to convince Lexa to reconsider. She would not sit there and allow Lexa to fight, to risk her life, in order to seek retribution for the attack on _Skaikru_. That is what Nia had wanted all along. She had been biding her time, waiting for opportunity to present itself so that she could challenge Lexa, knowing that the unanimous vote would fail and single combat would be issued. She knew that Lexa did not want war, and though Nia had claimed the same, war is what it would come to if this challenge was allowed to continue. If anyone should be battling for justice and vengeance for the lives of the Sky People that were lost, it should have been Clarke, not Lexa. This was Clarke’s battle, and somehow she had allowed Lexa to get caught in the crossfire. Or maybe it was Lexa’s battle, and Clarke was merely a tool for Nia to use, but either way, the weight of it fell to her own shoulders, and this was one burden she was not willing to let Lexa take.

Clarke stopped at the entrance to the hall, coming to stand beside Titus as Lexa issued a lesson in _Trigedasleng_ to the group of novitiates scattered about at her feet. She looked at ease, relaxed even, as she spoke to the children, eyeing them with the same joy and love that she saved for the rest of the citizens of Polis. Clarke’s heart skipped in her chest, again taken aback by Lexa’s raw magnificence, emanating off of her with the same intensity that warmth radiates off the sun. For all that Lexa had done, all she had witnessed and seen, she was so good. Too good for Clarke, she thought, too good for the ambassadors that were too blinded by their own greed to see the amazing woman they had leading them. Lexa had foresight, a vision for the future, even as the Coalition demanded so much from her in the present and lived on actions of the past.

“You talk her out of it yet?” Clarke asked, leaning over and whispering to Titus as she tried not to disturb the Commander’s lesson. At some point, Lexa had removed her shoulder armor, and she now sat back in her throne wearing a casual long-sleeved black shirt and the same tight black pants that were tucked into her boots.

“No,” Titus replied. “But I am hoping that you can. I know you care for her, Clarke,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. She wondered if he knew just how much she cared. “Do not let her risk her life for this.”

Clarke nodded, for once finding herself in agreement with the Flamekeeper. “I don’t intend to,” she assured him, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she intended to change Lexa’s mind. “I don’t understand,” Clarke continued on, seeking guidance and knowledge in the man who seemed to have it in spades. “Nia isn’t fighting. Why should Lexa have to?”

The thought of Lexa locked in a battle to the death made Clarke’s stomach twist with dread and sent bile shooting up her throat that she had to fight to choke back. “The Queen’s strength is not in doubt,” Titus replied. “Lexa’s is. Heda does not want a war, and she sees that this is the best opportunity to avoid one.”

“But who’s to say that Nia won’t seek retaliation if Roan loses?” Clarke questioned. “How do we know she wont start a war anyway?”

“We don’t,” Titus replied, expression falling behind deep lines of worry. He was a hardened man, Clarke knew that, but it was easy to see how much he cared for Lexa despite his teachings that love is weakness.

At the front of the throne room, Lexa dismissed her novitiates and they stood to file out of the room. Titus gave Clarke a curt bow before clapping his hands twice and signaling for the students to follow him as he swept through the doors and disappeared down the hall. Aden was the last to go, lingering behind the rest of the novitiates as he slowly approached Clarke. There was fear written in his young face, his blonde hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, though it was cold in the room and she wondered if he was warm beneath his black training armor or just terrified.

“Clarke,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. He pressed his lips to her ear and spoke in a tone so low that only she could make out what he was saying. “Find a way to stop the fight,” he hissed. “Roan is the deadliest warrior in the Coalition. Lexa is not safe.”

Clarke gripped him back, clinging to him as fear surged through her entire body, trying desperately to draw strength from the warmth of Aden’s chest. She could feel the way he trembled in her arms and she couldn’t help but wonder just how lethal of a fighter the Ice Prince was to make Aden quake with fear. If she wasn’t sure before, there was no doubt in her mind now that she would never let Lexa face off against Roan in single combat. She loved her, yes loved her, too much to let her die, fighting for a clan that would not even be in question if Clarke had not come to Polis. She understood now why Titus preached that to be Commander was to be alone, and the thought shattered her heart in her chest as if it were made of glass and dust.

“Aden,” Lexa said, breaking their embrace. The boy drew back from Clarke, though kept his eyes on hers, blue and pleading and full of desperation. “Join Titus and the other novitiates. I need a moment alone with Clarke,” the Commander instructed him.

Aden nodded once, letting his gaze linger a moment longer before bowing once in respect and sweeping out of the room, giving Clarke’s hand a tight squeeze as he shifted past. Clarke watched him go, then turned towards Lexa, feeling her heart pick up in her chest as the Commander stepped forward, closing the gap between them so that only inches remained. Her expression was empty and Clarke wondered how she could be so calm knowing that she was about to fight to the death with a highly skilled warrior that easily outweighed her twice over.

“You’re worried,” Lexa whispered, somehow reading her thoughts and bringing her hand up to cup Clarke’s cheek.

Clarke still wasn’t used to the way her stomach did backflips on itself and how her skin danced with sparks each time Lexa touched her. “Of course I’m worried, Lexa,” Clarke whispered, bringing her hand up to let her fingers close around Lexa’s wrist.

“Don’t be,” the Commander replied. “If I should die today, Aden will take care of your people. And I’ve sent Indra to raise an army from the villages near Arkadia,” she explained. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I worry for you!” Clarke snapped, her tone filled with trepidation and unhindered desperation. She reached up and cupped Lexa’s cheek with her own hand, pressing their foreheads together as she closed her eyes and breathed in the Commander’s scent. Lexa always smelled like the forest mixed with smoke from far too many candles. “I can’t let you risk your life for my people. Please don’t do this.”

Lexa leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to Clarke’s forehead, letting her soft lips linger there for a moment before drawing back. “I have to, Clarke,” she whispered. “It is our only chance at avoiding a war.”

“You said it yourself that war with Ice Nation is inevitable,” she argued. “Let someone else fight in your place.”

Lexa heaved a heavy sigh, letting her hand fall away from Clarke’s cheek though not stepping away. “I can’t,” she replied. “I must prove my strength. Defeating Roan may be the only way to win some of the other ambassadors back to our side. If we can cut off the people who support Nia, she may back down. If I allow anyone to fight in my place, I will appear weak, and if that person should lose, I would also lose my position as Heda.”

“But you would be alive, Lexa!” Clarke argued. “I can’t lose you!”

The Commander took a step back at that, breathing out her frustration as she climbed the steps up to the throne. Clarke followed her, desperate to close the space between them once more. “You’ve never seen me fight, Clarke,” Lexa argued.

“And I don’t want to!” Clarke shot back, her tone increasing to a near panicked shout. “They’re my people, Lexa. It is not your responsibility to protect them and you certainly don’t have to risk your life to avenge them!”

“They’re _our_ people, Clarke,” Lexa quickly corrected her, voice steel beneath a clenched jaw. “And I am doing this for all of them, not just _Skaikru_. This is our last chance at ending a war before it begins.”

“Lexa, please…” Clarke whispered, letting her voice trail off. She didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know how to convince her otherwise. All she knew was that Lexa was in danger, and she would do anything to stop it.

Lexa stood silently for a moment, holding Clarke’s gaze with her own as if trying to decipher her thoughts. “Clarke,” she finally whispered after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “If today is the day I die, then I will have done so fighting for what I believe in, and you need to accept that.”

Clarke felt a fury like she had never known before sweep through her, clouding her vision with spots of red as she struggled to maintain her composure. Lexa was stubborn. Lexa was arrogant and foolish and prideful. Lexa was also wise, and kind, and far too good for this world. Lexa was the love of her life, and Clarke would not stand by and watch her die.

“Like hell I do,” Clarke muttered, turning on her heel and darting out of the room as if her very life depended on it.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Titus practically ambushed her in the hallway the moment she stepped out of the door, angst and worry etched into his weathered features as if they’d been carved out by time. Clarke honestly thought the emotions looked out of place on his face, this man who was normally so cold and distant, and it was clear the fear he had for Lexa’s safety was only masking the love he had for her as well. Clarke stilled as he grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of her blue and grey shirt as if grasping at his last and only hope. His brown eyes were swimming in the candlelight that lit the hallway, reflecting just as much anxiety as what she knew was surely seizing her own heart.

“Clarke,” he whispered, pulling her away from the throne room doors to be sure the Commander would not hear. “Were you able to convince her to abandon this foolish notion?”

She was startled at the desperation in his voice, and more so at the way he clung to her. “No,” Clarke muttered, watching the way his shoulders slumped in disappointment. “She believes that meeting Nia’s challenge directly is the only way to avoid a war.”

“She risks her life for nothing!” he snapped, though his voice was still low. “She is playing right into Nia’s scheme.”

“She knows that, Titus,” Clarke said. “She thinks that by defeating Roan, she will prove her strength and the ambassadors that follow Nia will withdraw their support. Nia cannot have her war if it’s Ice Nation against a united Coalition.”

“And naming a champion to fight in her stead would only make her look weak, even if the champion bested Roan,” he added. 

“Can Lexa beat him?” Clarke asked, her heart dropping into her stomach at the look of hesitation and fear on the Flamekeeper’s face. “Titus, tell me the truth. I need to know.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, letting it out as he released his clutch on Clarke’s shoulders. “Lexa is as strong as she is wise. She can defeat him,” he replied. “But tell me, Clarke, are you so willing to gamble with her life?”

Clarke struggled to fight against the urge to feel offended that he would even suggest such a thing. The answer came without hesitation when she spoke, “Of course not.”

“Then go back in there and convince her to see reason!” he gritted through clenched teeth, barely in control of his own emotions. Clarke didn’t like how close he was, how he leaned in and spoke to her as if she was his student, and she didn’t like the way he had constantly demeaned her relationship with Lexa. But in this moment, with this overwhelming and urgent need to protect Lexa, they were united.

“Lexa will not back down,” she whispered, though the gears in her head were already turning in full force. “But if she won’t, then that means that we have to convince Nia to.”

“The Ice Queen?” Titus asked, incredulously. “You seek to convince the Ice Queen to withdraw her challenge?”

“I’m going to try,” Clarke answered, determination far outweighing the alarms ringing in the back of her mind. “Where is she?”  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It took every ounce of willpower in her body just to choke back the fear that bubbled up in her throat as she entered the dining hall. The same hall that had been ringing with laughter and joy only a few nights before as the _Skaikru_ council had arrived in Polis was now overrun with Ice Nation warriors. Clarke had requested an audience with Nia and watched as a dozen warriors filed out of the room before the doors swung shut behind her, leaving Clarke alone with the Ice Queen. The girl that had been at Nia’s side in the tent back in _Azgeda_ lingered about towards the back of the room, eyeing Clarke as if she wanted to make a meal out of her.

Nia sat at the head of the long dinging table, her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a nest on top of her head as she picked at the food in front of her, hardly sparing Clarke a second glance. She looked at ease, a content expression plastered across her scarred and maimed features as she popped a handful of green grapes into her mouth, masticating them without abate. For some reason, the air in the room seemed colder than the hall just outside the door, as if Clarke was stepping in to an arctic zone, and she idly wondered if winter followed the Ice Queen as faithfully as her lackeys. She clutched a wickedly sharp knife in her hand, using it to peel back pieces of an apple as she forged on with her meal like the food warranted higher priority than Clarke’s request to see her.

The woman that had been lingering towards the back of the room stepped further into the light and for the first time, Clarke could make out her full features. She was hauntingly beautiful, not in the same way that Lexa captivated and allured, but in a way that was almost threatening, as if it would be an offense not to find her attractive. Her brown hair was woven into intricate braids, falling down her shoulders and over a thick fur lined collar. She wore a heavy black over coat as if stuck in the middle of a blizzard, and deep rigid scars framed her full cheeks and pursed pink lips. Her skin was a light brown color, tanned and bronzed from training in the sun, and her body was built like that of a warrior’s, strong and solid. 

“Clarke of the Sky People,” Nia drawled out, snapping Clarke’s attention away from the other girl as she plunged the tip of the knife into the wooden table with a heavy _thunk_. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Clarke mustered her courage, letting out a slow breath to ensure that her voice would not shake when she spoke. “I came to ask you to reconsider. Withdraw your challenge against Lexa.”

Nia’s laughter was a cackle as she threw her head back, shoulders shaking violently with the motion of it. “Now why would I do that?” she asked, voice dripping with malice and amusement. 

An hour ago, Clarke would not have known how to answer, but she had spent time in the hallway rehearsing her response for when she knew the question would undoubtedly come. “Because,” she replied, lending as much strength to her tone as she squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. “Ice Nation will not survive a war with _Skaikru_.” Clarke knew that the Grounders saw power in strength, and to threaten Nia with the strength of _Skaikru’s_ technology was the most formidable way to persuade the outcome to her needs.

“There will be no need for war when Roan kills Lexa,” Nia answered quickly.

“You slaughtered forty-nine of my people in Mount Weather last night,” Clarke spat, steel settling in her veins. “We will seek vengeance. And your spears and arrows will do nothing against our bullets.” She still wondered how Ice Nation had known the codes to the self-destruct mechanism in the mountain, or how they even knew how to use them, but she knew seeking those answers from Nia would be pointless.

The Ice Queen stared at her a moment, sizing her up as if judging whether her threat was even worth considering. “ _Skaikru_ numbers in the hundreds,” she said. “My army alone numbers in the thousands. All the technology in the world could not save you if I chose to wipe out your tiny camp. And without the Commander there to defend you, the Coalition will not stand with your people.”

Clarke could see that bearing her teeth and bluffing the capabilities of her people was getting her nowhere, so instead she decided to swiftly change her tactics, attempting to appeal to Nia’s emotions. “You’re so confident that Roan will defeat Lexa,” she gritted, even the very thought sending a wave of dread through her body. “But do you really want to see another one of you sons fall at the end of the Commander’s blade?” she asked, again hearing the menace in her own voice.

The Ice Queen stood, rising slowly out of her chair, towering over Clarke as her frost blue eyes bore down on her. Clarke hadn’t realized how tall Nia was, but standing before her now, she was very aware that the Queen of _Azgeda_ was a sizeable woman, her presence nearly as commanding as Lexa’s. Clarke found herself regretting her words but she did not let it show on her face, instead she stood her ground, toe to toe with Nia as if squaring off for a fight.

“If you were as confident in Lexa as you pretend to be, Clarke,” the Ice Queen seethed. “You would not be here now, trying to persuade me to recall my challenge.”

“I don’t want a war any more than you do,” Clarke answered, keeping her voice steady. “Withdraw your challenge and leave Polis. The blood debt you owe my people will be forgiven,” she continued, her words an order more than a proposition.

Nia’s eyes flashed with anger, her confident smirk twisting into a deep frown. “I see through your bluffs, _Wanheda_ ,” she whispered. “Backing down now does nothing to serve my higher purpose.”

“And what exactly is that?” Clarke questioned, seizing the opportunity to plead to intellect and rationale. “Lexa said that only a Nightblood can ever become Commander. If she falls, there will be a conclave and one of her novitiates will rise. You gain nothing.”

Nia’s scowl morphed into a sly grin as if she was privy to a secret that only she knew. “Do you really think me that unprepared, Clarke?” she asked. The Ice Queen turned to the other girl in the room that had been looking on at their conversation stoically, unmoving. “Ontari, come here,” she commanded.

The girl, Ontari, obeyed at once, moving to stand at attention at her queen’s side. She eyed Clarke like a predator would its prey, raking her gaze over her from top to bottom as if deciphering which part of her body she would attack first. Clarke again found herself wishing she had brought her gun, but she had been so caught up in her worry for Lexa and coming up with a plan to stop the fight that she hadn’t remembered to grab it on her way to the dining hall. She didn’t really know what she would have done with it, but every nerve in her body was screaming at her to find something to protect herself from this girl.

“Hold out your hand,” Nia told the girl.

Ontari did as she was asked, thrusting her hand into the small space between where Clarke and Nia stood facing each other and jerking her sleeve up to her elbow. The Ice Queen wrapped long, agile fingers around the girl’s wrist as she wrenched her knife free from where it was pinned in the tabletop, then quickly dragged the sharp edge through the meaty flesh of Ontari’s palm. Immediately, thick black blood began to pool in the girl’s hand, flowing over the sides and down the spaces between her fingers where it dripped onto the floor, staining it like ink.

“You see, Clarke,” Nia began, letting her grin spread across her face. “I brought my own _Natblida_. Tell Lexa that today is the day she dies, and Ice Nation hails the next Commander.”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke found herself back in the throne room, face to face with Titus as she explained her confrontation with the Ice Queen. She told him how she had first threatened and then attempted to coerce Nia, but had failed when Ontari revealed herself to be a Nightblood. Lexa watched on in silence, though her normally impassive features were flickering with anger as she listened to Clarke reiterate her story. Clarke couldn’t tell if she was mad about going behind her back, or mad that Clarke had put herself in danger by meeting with the Ice Queen in secret. 

Titus’s face was drained of color as he spoke. “A Commander from the Ice Nation?” he asked, to himself rather than to anyone in particular. “Now all of Nia’s provocations make sense. Her quarrel was never with _Skaikru_ , she was just using them as a means to turn the ambassadors against Lexa.” 

He turned to address Lexa where she stood stoically, her hands folded behind her back as though the news did not unsettle her in the slightest. “She knew you would accept her challenge,” Titus continued on. “And we played right into it.”

“How did this happen?” Clarke asked, moving to stand beside Titus in front of the Commander.

Lexa’s eyes shifted towards Clarke and she could see the way the Commander softened, though the change was so slight that she was sure she could have imagined it. “When a Nightblood child is found, they’re brought here to be trained,” she said softly, almost as if it pained her. “Or they’re supposed to be. Nia has clearly been planning this longer than we could have imagined. Longer than I have been Commander.”

“Your legacy is no longer secure, Heda,” Titus interjected, emotion swimming deep behind his eyes. “It is not too late to name a champion.”

Lexa set her jaw rigid, her shoulders going stiff as she pushed past them both, pacing the room. “You know I can’t do that,” she practically growled, her voice low. 

“Heda—

“Leave us!” Lexa commanded before Titus could try once more to make her reconsider.

Her order was not to be questioned, and Titus had no choice but to obey. He cast one more pleading glance in Clarke’s direction, appearing as if he was close to tears, before he turned on a heel and swept out of the room. For all of their differences and disagreements, Clarke felt for the Flamekeeper. She felt his same pain and same fear, the same worry that gripped her heart like a noose, threatening to strangle the life from her body. And she would have happily let it if she knew that it could spare Lexa from having to fight to the death.

Lexa was now pacing back and forth up the length of the red carpet and waiting impatiently for the guards to shut the doors behind them on their way out. She turned to look at Clarke with a flurry of emotions on her face that Clarke had never seen before and had never expected to ever bear witness to. The Commander appeared calm and confident, yet worried and anxious at the same time. She also appeared strong and imposing, but as her eyes drifted towards Clarke, there was a very distinctive vulnerability in them that she could do nothing to hide.

“Lexa,” Clarke spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over them. “He’s right. You’re giving her exactly what she wants.”

The Commander instantly moved towards her, closing the space between them so that only inches remained. “Only if I lose,” Lexa whispered, holding Clarke’s gaze steady as if trying to reassure her with unspoken words.

“Please,” Clarke felt the word sound more like a plea, and she was not opposed to begging in this moment. “Please don’t do this.”

“I know you’re just trying to help, Clarke,” the Commander replied, her tongue clicking over the –k. “But there’s nothing you can do here.”

“I can’t just let you give your life for my people,” Clarke argued, letting her hands close around Lexa’s waist and holding her in place before she could turn away.

Lexa sighed, bringing both her hands up to cup Clarke’s cheeks and gazing intently into her eyes. “If that is to be my fate, then you must accept it,” she said, her voice strong. If she felt even an ounce of fear, she did not show it.

Clarke wondered how Lexa could be so calm at a moment like this when internally she was freaking out herself. She supposed that is what separated the two of them in terms of their roles as leaders. Lexa was always calm, always in control, even in the face of immeasurable danger, while Clarke wore her emotions on her sleeve, brandishing them like a sword for the world to see. There was never a moment when she was not in awe of Lexa, even now, standing before her and clutching her in her arms as if this was the last embrace they would ever share.

“I…I can’t,” Clarke whispered, her voice rasping behind a sob that was building ever presently in her throat. “I can’t lose you.”

Lexa’s gaze faltered at that, her eyes shifting down towards Clarke’s lips and back up again. “You’re driven to fix everything for everyone, Clarke,” she said, her voice trembling. “That’s why I lo—”Lexa cut herself off, swallowing deeply as if choking back her words. “That’s why you’re you,” she corrected. “But you can’t fix this. I have to do this on my own, and you have to let me.”

“I won’t just sit there and watch you die,” Clarke gritted out, clenching her jaw in an attempt to force back the tears that had welled in her eyes. The effort was futile as she watched them spill over, wanting nothing more than to fall to her knees behind them and beg Lexa not to go. The thought of losing her was too much to bear and it had her heart shattering in her chest, breaking into a million pieces, more numerous than the stars that crowded the night sky.

A moment later the doors behind them crashed open and Titus flooded into the room again, grey robes billowing behind him. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying, but he held his posture high, intent on acting the part he had been given to play in all of this. Clarke felt the air leave her lungs, fear constricting the life from her body, twisting and knotting her insides like the blade of a knife. Her grip on Lexa’s waist tightened as every fiber of her being screamed at her to hold tight and never let go.

“Heda,” Titus croaked out, though he did not lift his gaze to make eye contact. “It is time.”

Lexa gave him a solemn nod before letting her eyes meet Clarke’s once more, emerald green melting with sky blue. “Then this is goodbye,” she whispered, pulling Clarke into her arms and wrapping her in a tight hug. “For now,” she added, her breath hot in Clarke’s ear.

Clarke clung to her, holding her so tightly that she was sure Lexa was struggling to breathe, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. She breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of forest and candles that was so uniquely Lexa, and it had tears spilling over her cheeks again. They stood like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s embraces as if the world around did not exist and all that mattered was the two of them. Clarke wanted to say those three words that had lingered on her lips too many times before, those three words that she was sure Lexa had nearly said only moments before, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It felt far too much like a goodbye.

When Lexa finally pulled away, her jaw was set with resolve, and Clarke watched the way she shifted from tender back to the impassive face of strength that was the Commander. She held Clarke’s gaze a few seconds longer before giving her one final nod, stepping past her to follow Titus out of the room. Every ounce of Clarke’s soul was screaming, yelling at her to go after her, to stop her and tell her how she felt before it was too late. She was torn, caught somewhere between saying too much, and never having said enough, and she didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of that battle.

“Lexa! Wait!” she practically shouted, whirling around and grabbing hold of the Commander’s wrist before she could go too far.

Lexa spun back around, her emerald green eyes dancing with something that resembled hope and it had Clarke’s heart nearly beating right out of her chest. She didn’t hesitate as her lips crashed into the Commander’s, engulfing her mouth in a kiss that could say all the words that her voice couldn’t. Those three words would have felt too much like a goodbye, but this kiss was the exact opposite. It was a promise. A promise for the future, one that begged her to stay alive, pleaded with her to make it through this, so that when it was over, they could stop just surviving and finally start living. Together.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

On the streets far below, a crowd had begun to gather, flocking towards the center of the city like ants. From the Commander’s balcony on the top floor of the Polis tower, they looked like nothing more than innocent specks in the distance, but Clarke knew what they were congregating for. She could see where a makeshift arena had been set up in the city square and a platform for what she assumed the ambassadors and clan leaders could watch the fight. A gentle breeze swept through her hair and it smelled of the trees and a faint trace of the sea and Clarke allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, breathing the scent in deeply in the late autumn afternoon sun.

The calming breath did nothing to steady her nerves, and as she gripped the balcony railing, she noticed her knuckles were white and her palms were lathered in clammy sweat. Her heart thundered in her chest, beating so loudly that she was sure even the people far below could hear it, and her stomached swayed with nausea. Once more, she was at war with herself, struggling to sort through the torrent of emotions that swarmed around in her head like a tornado. 

She had failed to stop the fight; she had failed in her efforts to convince Lexa to name a champion and had failed in her attempts to dissuade Nia’s challenge. Lexa and Roan would fight to the death; of that she was sure. Now her argument was only with herself. She wanted to be there for Lexa, to cheer her on and lend her courage and strength through her unwavering support, but fear had crippled her. She could not stand there and watch Lexa die, her heart would not be able to take it and the paint of it would surely kill her too.

So instead, she stood on Lexa’s balcony, watching from a distance as the crowd below her swelled in numbers, the noise of the gathering reaching all the way up to her ears. She’d been so caught up in her emotions and lost within her own head that she hadn’t heard the door open behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a familiar voice called from behind her, startling her out of the daze she’d been trapped in.

“Clarke,” Aden said, shifting out onto the balcony to stand beside her. “What are you doing out here?”

The boy carried himself with his chin high and his shoulders square as if entirely unfazed by the ordeal, and Clarke knew that he was just trying to act in the way that Lexa would have expected him to. He wore black novitiate robes, the hood pulled up over his head and hanging low just above his eyes so that all that was visible beneath was his chin and nose. He looked as if he was attending a funeral, and Clarke had to choke back the sob that had begun to well in her throat, swallowing deeply and keeping the tears from her eyes.

“I couldn’t stop the fight, Aden,” she croaked. “Lexa wouldn’t listen to me and Nia saw straight through my bluff.”

“I know,” the boy replied. “The fight will be starting soon. Which is why I asked you what you are doing out here?”

Clarke again fought the tears that pooled in her eyes. “Where should I be?” she asked.

“Down there,” he replied, motioning towards the crowd that was still growing. “By Lexa’s side.”

“I can’t.” Clarke shook her head. “I can’t watch her die.”

“Then watch her live,” Aden replied, his voice unwavering. “I know you think you failed, Clarke, but the best thing you can do for Lexa right now is show her that you support her.”

“But what if—

“No,” he cut her off. “She needs to see you there, Clarke. Roan fights for his own selfish greed and the greed of his mother, but Lexa fights for her people, and she fights for me, and she fights for you,” he explained with a wisdom far beyond his years.

Clarke sighed, breathing it out long and heavy as she contemplated his words. “Aden,” she whispered. He pulled his hood back so that she could peer into his blue eyes, finding courage within her heart to admit the thing she had been most afraid to say. “I love her,” she said simply, the admission feeling like a prayer on her lips. “I can’t watch her get hurt.”

He nodded, a slight smile tugging up at he corner of his mouth. “Then show her, Clarke,” he said. “Give her a reason to live. Let her fight for who she loves and those that love her.”

Clarke let her eyes wander away from his and back down towards the city square below, searching through the waves of people as if she could pick Lexa out in the crowd, though she knew it would be impossible from this distance. “Okay,” she whispered, digging deep down and finding resolve in her soul, letting steel take her nerves. 

“Good,” Aden replied. “Let’s walk down together.”

No more than ten minutes later, they found themselves at the bottom of the elevator, walking through the tunnel that emptied out into the marketplace. When they emerged into the sunlight, Clarke thought she had never seen the usually bustling market so empty before in the daylight, and the stillness of it all would have been eerie if not for the loud chanting coming from the center of the town. She couldn’t quite make out what the crowd was saying, but it sounded as if they were chanting Lexa’s name over and over again, cheering for their Heda.

Clarke pulled her own hood up over her head as she had seen Aden do, not willing to entertain the thought of townsfolk approaching her when her anxiety level was bordering on out of control. They didn’t have to wander far in the direction of all the commotion when they reached a thick swarm of people, all gathered around a structure that had been constructed in the very center of the town square. The ambassadors sat on a wooden platform, raised about four feet off the ground, their clan banners dancing lightly in the wind behind them.

Titus lingered in the center of the stage, raising his arms up to bring the noise in the crowd to a halt. His face was solemn and his features were hard, but even beneath his mask, Clarke could see the pain and worry in his eyes. In front of the platform, she could barely make out Lexa’s shape through a break in the crowd, and as Titus began to speak, she shoved her way through masses of people, muscling her way towards the front. The Flamekeeper’s voice rang out in _Trigedasleng_ , and beside her, Aden leaned in to translate.

“In single combat,” Aden whispered, exerting just as much effort to push through the onlookers. “There is but one rule…” he trailed off, waiting for Titus to continue after a brief pause. “Someone must die today,” Aden finished, his voice falling hard on those last words.

“You may begin,” Titus said, in English.

Clarke managed to elbow her way to the front of the crowd at that exact moment, shoving through the last line of people and looking up just in time to meet Lexa’s emerald green gaze. The Commander stuttered in her tracks a moment as she unstrapped her shoulder armor and handed it off to a servant, her eyes going wide as if surprised to see Clarke there. Her outfit was simple; black pants tucked in to black boots, and a black long sleeve shirt tucked in to her traditional skeleton pattern bracers. She wore a leather breastplate that strapped over her shoulders and down her back to where it wrapped around the front of her waist and buckled into place. Her green eyes were bright beneath her black war paint that streamed down her face in sharp pointed wisps and faded back towards her temples, the cog of the coalition resting prominently between.

She looked fierce and ready, her expression calm and impassive if not for the shock in her eyes as her gaze settled on Clarke. Clarke lifted her hands to the hood that shrouded her face and pulled it back, willing Lexa to see that it was really her, and that she was there. They stared at each other for a moment, all the words they had never said to each other lingering thick and urgent in the air between them, and silently wishing that they had had more time. A second later, Lexa’s shoulders relaxed as she breathed a visible sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you came,” she said, her voice calm despite the shouts of the crowd around her.

Clarke nodded, choking back tears that already pooled in her eyes as she tried to keep her fear from her face. “I’m right here,” she assured her.

Lexa returned her nod once, holding her gaze as she reached over to where a servant held her sword out for her as she drew it swiftly from its sheath. Not a moment after her hands touched the blade, Clarke watched in horror as Roan charged from behind her, aiming to take Lexa by surprise while her back was still turned. Before Clarke could even muster a warning, Lexa must have read the startled expression in her face because she was already turning on her heel and charging to meet Roan.

Their blades clashed together as Lexa swiftly side-stepped, letting the Ice Prince’s momentum carry past her while she dragged her blade across the folds of his back. He breathed deeply, gritting back pain as his eyes fell heavily upon Clarke. He looked angry, his shoulders heaving as he gripped his sword in his hand with white knuckles, his jaw clenched tightly. His brown hair was pulled back in a partial ponytail on top of his head while the rest of it flowed in waves down to his shoulders. He wore very little armor as well, clad simply in tight fitting pants and boots and a long-sleeved blue shirt beneath a brown leather vest of his own. His form was solid, muscles built and tense, and looking positively ready to kill.

Clarke felt fear boiling hot in her chest and she had to choke back the sudden overwhelming need to vomit as nerves punctured her stomach and tore the breath from her lungs. Roan turned to square off against Lexa, and she didn’t hesitate as she brought her sword down on his with three quick strikes, advancing towards him as he deflected each blow. On the forth strike, she spun on her heel, mustering more power behind the blow than her previous attempts that had Roan retreated backwards still. She brought her sword down in a straight arc, attempting to catch him off guard as he lifted his own to intercept hers.

They were locked in a battle of strength now, Lexa bearing down on Roan’s sword as he pushed up on hers, the blades lingering in limbo in the space between their faces. Their eyes were locked and their jaws clenched as they trembled with the effort it took to fend off their opponent. Roan had sheer strength on his side, far outmuscling and outweighing the much more agile Lexa, and he used it to his advantage as he pushed down on her blade. Suddenly, the tables were turned and Clarke felt her entire world threaten to shatter as Lexa dropped to her knees beneath the force of Roan’s blade.

The Commander’s sword quaked as she pushed back against Roan, her knuckles white as she gripped the hilt with two hands. Still, the two blades, locked in a stalemate, inched closer towards her face with every passing second. Clarke watched in horror as Lexa reached up, using her free hand to clamp her grip directly on Roan’s blade. Thick black blood poured out of the deep gash that formed in her palm, but she found purchase in Roan’s surprise as she pushed herself back to her feet and threw his blade off of her own.

Roan stumbled backwards but only for a moment before he swiped at Lexa, missing by just inches as she lunged out of the way and then ducked beneath his second attack. The force of his miss threw him off balance, but only for a moment as he stepped forward and sent a loaded backhanded fist towards Lexa’s face that she blocked with her elbow. But Roan was fast, moving with lightning speed as he brought his blade down on her again, Lexa just barely managing to get her sword up in time to absorb the blow. Still, she stumbled slightly, and Roan took advantage, using his knee to jab at her legs and sending her tumbling forward to the ground.

He didn’t slow up, continuing his advance as he brought his sword down on the Commander once more, and again Lexa was just able to throw her block up in time to stop his sword. This time, Roan changed his tactic, instead of bearing down on Lexa’s blade, he brought his fist back and quickly sent it crashing into her nose. The nerves in Clarke’s stomach increased tenfold as she heard a loud _crack_ rang out when Roan’s fist connected with Lexa’s face and her heart dropped as he kicked the Commander’s sword away from her. It skittered across the ground and slid to a stop about fifteen feet away, far out of Lexa’s reach and leaving her hopelessly defenseless.

But Lexa was as quick as she was resourceful, using her elbow to blast into the side of Roan’s leg and sending him crashing to his knees. Lexa was on her feet in an instant, continuing her advance by bringing her own solid knee up into Roan’s chin and he stumbled backwards as his face absorbed the blow, letting his sword clatter to the ground. The space between them was enough time for Lexa to collect her bearings, bending down to scoop both swords into her hands as Clarke breathed a short-lived sigh of relief.

The tables had turned, and Lexa now stood, twirling two blades in a showy flourish while Roan was completely unarmed. She squared her stance, looking to advance, but Roan was already on the move, stumbling towards where a sentry stood and sending a lead fist into the unsuspecting man’s face as he ripped the spear from his hand. Roan gave a flashy demonstration of his own, spinning the spear over his shoulders and behind his back as he squared his stance to face the Commander.

Lexa spun one of her swords over her head, bouncing on her toes as she waited for him to make his move. Roan stepped forward, gripping the hilt of the spear like a bat as he swung it in a long sideways arc towards Lexa’s head, but Lexa had anticipated his move and quickly ducked beneath it, popping up to square off behind him as he spun around to face her once more. This time, the Commander went on the attack, bringing the sword in her right hand down for a quick strike of her own. Roan parried it, spinning away from her as she attacked with the other sword and using the wooden hilt of the spear to block her advances. Suddenly, it was Lexa who was twirling, spinning towards Roan as she threw strike after strike at him like a deadly whirlwind, practically blurring with the speed of her attack.

Roan stepped backwards, having no other choice but to retreat as Lexa advanced on him with lethal speed and precision. He saw a slight opening and took it, bringing his spear down in a swooping arc, but Lexa had been anticipating it as she held her two swords up and crossed the blades to block his strike. Roan didn’t hesitate, bringing his spear back and using the dangerous blade on it to knock the sword out of Lexa’s hand and sending it flying out of reach. He acted quickly, using the moment of shock to bring the spear down again on Lexa’s other blade, tearing that one from her grasp as well, leaving her completely defenseless.

Clarke felt terror sweep through her body as she watched Roan bring his leg up and send a heavy boot right into Lexa’s chest that had her crashing to the ground on her back. Lexa writhed in pain, gasping for the air that had been ripped from her lungs as Roan circled over her, spear in hand while she had nothing to protect herself with. Clarke’s heart sank and she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely down her cheeks as she gazed on with dread surging through her veins like poison. She faintly registered Aden’s hand in her own, and she wasn’t sure if she had reached for him or if he had reached for her, but she clutched him tightly, forcing herself to watch the hopeless scene unfold, unable to move, and unable to look away.

Roan hovered above Lexa, tossing the spear up so that he could grip it like a javelin as he stood over her, bringing his other hand to clutch the hilt. The blade was suspended just above Lexa’s head as the world seemed to click into slow motion and the sounds of the terrified crowd fell away around them. Clarke could hear her own heart beating in her ears, thrumming loudly with her rapid pulse like a war drum as her vision swam with tears. Roan brought the spear back, priming his attack as if loading a gun, and in one swift motion he brought it down towards Lexa’s face. The scream in Clarke’s throat was smothered as Lexa rolled out of the way at the last second, sparks flying off the ground as the blade clashed to the cement where her head had been only a millisecond before.

Clarke’s grasp on Aden’s hand only tightened more as the Commander shifted on her back, spinning her body and using the force of her momentum to completely sweep Roan’s legs out from under him. The Ice Prince crashed to his back as the Commander hopped to her feet, somehow digging deep into the depths of her resilient willpower to find a second wind. Roan was up on his feet again a second later, swinging his spear towards a still defenseless Lexa who leaned back as the blade passed over her face, and then ducked forward to let it again sweep over her back before hopping out of the way of his direct jab. The spear shot past her and she used it to her advantage, gripping the hilt and yanking it out of Roan’s grasp as he stumbled off balance with the momentum of his missed strike.

Again, the tables were turned, and it was now Lexa who had a weapon, and Roan who had nothing but the clothes on his back. Lexa swung the spear forward in a wide arc as Roan quickly stepped back, barely getting out of the way as the blade cut through the air where his chest had been. However, Lexa was already one step ahead, bringing the blade back towards him in a low jab that caught him on the leg, dropping him to his knees as a deep wound opened up on his calf. The Commander advanced on him once more, swinging the blade of the spear towards his head, but Roan held up his arm to block it, holding it firmly in his grasp. Instead of trying to tear the spear away from him, Lexa pushed forward with the hilt instead, throwing it upwards into Roan’s nose with a sickly _crunch_.

Clarke watched as the Ice Prince’s head snapped back, blood spurting out of his nose as he tumbled to the ground in a dazed and beaten heap. He was breathing heavily, his eyes glassy as he struggled to maintain consciousness, sprawled out on the ground with nowhere to go. Lexa circled over him, twirling the spear about and gazing down on him with what Clarke thought looked something very akin to pity in her emerald green eyes. Blood trickled from Lexa’s nose and mouth, and her hand was still oozing, but her shoulders were relaxed and her face impassive as she stood above the defeated Ice Prince.

She hadn’t even realized it, but Clarke had been holding her breath, and her grip on Aden’s hand was like a vice, though she was sure it was the only thing keeping her from trembling with nerves. Nia was screaming at Roan in _Trigedasleng_ , but Aden didn’t bother to translate, and Clarke wasn’t sure she even wanted to know the meaning. All she could focus on at the moment was Lexa, standing above the fallen prince and clutching tightly to the spear in her grasp as the blade hovered dangerously over Roan’s chest.

She saw Roan mumble something to the Commander, but couldn’t quite make out his words. Lexa gazed down at him, her shoulders falling as if her resolve had left her body, and her voice was sad when she spoke. “ _Just drein jus daun_ ,” she said, just loud enough for the hushed crowd to hear. _Blood must have blood_. Lexa was avenging the attack on _Skaikru_ , and her eyes were sullen as she lifted the spear further and drove it down into Roan’s chest in one quick motion. 

Clarke was sure the death was quick and painless, the blade piercing his heart as the life drained from his eyes before they rolled back up in his head. The Commander pulled the blade from his chest and threw it aside as if it was made of molten lava, turning swiftly away from the sight of the body and disappearing into a nearby tunnel as Titus followed closely behind. She spared a single glance at Clarke before she faded away into the darkness, her green eyes dancing with guilt beneath an expressionless mask, but Clarke could see right through it. The Ice Queen’s screams of agony at losing a child to Lexa for the second time could not even be heard above the crowd roaring the Commander’s name.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The deep sunset had faded into darkness long before Clarke even made it back to their room. It was funny to her how the Commander’s room had become their room, and the thought of sharing something so personal with Lexa stirred warmth in Clarke’s chest. After the fight, Clarke had wanted to go after Lexa, but when she returned to the tower, the Commander was nowhere to be found and she assumed now that she had defeated Nia’s challenge, she had further business to discuss with Titus. So, Clarke waited for her, soaking to her neck in a bath to quell the nerves that still gripped her entire body, and then changing into a loose fitting nightgown that flowed down to her ankles.

She was staring out the window, glancing up at the moon and the stars in the sky and thinking of the Ark and where it had floated in orbit for a hundred years, when the door to the room swung gently open. Lexa entered, freezing in her tracks when she caught sight of Clarke, her green eyes raking down the entire length of her body, slowly, deliberately, as if memorizing every detail, before shifting up to meet Clarke’s gaze. 

Lexa had bathed at some point, washing the blood and dirt from her sun-kissed skin, and had slipped into a nightgown of her own. It was an elegant black material, cascading down the length of her lean body, hugging her curves as it went, and stopping just above her bare feet. A mile-long slit in the side of the material revealed Lexa’s endless bare legs, and the sight made Clarke swallow back the thick ball of longing that had gathered in her throat.

Lexa’s hand was wrapped in a bandage, stained black by the wound that was still bleeding beneath, and Clarke shifted into action, forcing herself to move before she melted into a puddle of desire at Lexa’s feet. The bridge of the Commander’s nose was slightly bruised, a light shade of purple against her pale complexion and a cut had scabbed over at the corner of her mouth. She looked entirely worse for ware, but breathtaking nonetheless, her wild brown hair sweeping over her shoulder and flowing loosely down her chest.

“Let me change that for you,” Clarke whispered though she could hear the rasp in her voice. She wanted to throw herself into Lexa’s arms, to hold her close and never let go, but the way that the Commander was looking at her, as if Clarke was her entire universe, had her head spinning with more nerves than she’d felt all day.

Lexa nodded once, not speaking as she lowered herself onto the couch at the center of the room. Clarke could feel her eyes on her back as she rummaged through a drawer to find a clean swatch of cloth that she could tear into a new bandage before sitting down beside Lexa. She reached for the Commander’s hand, taking it delicately in her own as if it were fragile, while she gently unwound the ruined bandage to reveal the open wound beneath. The cut was deep, and if it were on any other part of Lexa’s body, Clarke would have thought to stitch it up, but she knew stitches would not hold well in the palm of Lexa’s hand, so all they could do was wait for it to close on its own.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Lexa said, finally breaking her silence as Clarke wrapped the new bandage into place. “Seeing you there it…” she trailed off, searching for the right words. “It meant a lot. You kept me alive, Clarke,” she whispered, the admission hanging in the air between them.

Clarke glanced up at her when she finished her work, their eyes meeting in a familiar blend of blue and green, laced with desire in the flickering candlelight. “I was so scared,” Clarke breathed. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did exactly what I needed you to do,” Lexa replied. “You showed up. You backed me.”

“I’ll always back you,” Clarke answered, realizing that she was still holding tightly to Lexa’s injured hand.

Clarke watched as Lexa’s eyes flicked quickly down towards her lips and then back up again, and she wondered what war the Commander was raging in her own head. She wondered if it was similar to the battle she was fighting within herself, those three words that she had admitted to Aden still lingering on her lips, trying desperately to break free. Lexa shifted slightly closer, bringing her free hand up to cup Clarke’s cheek as her thumb trailed lightly over her plump bottom lip, both lost deep within each other’s unwavering gazes.

“So, what happens now?” Clarke found herself asking, saying anything she could to keep herself from uttering those three tiny little words. “With Nia and Ice Nation?”

Lexa sighed, her shoulders deflating as her eyes dragged slowly down to Clarke’s lips again. “Can we talk about something else?” she asked, her voice husky with the lust that she was struggling to control.

Clarke felt herself smile, her lips pulling back beneath where Lexa’s thumb still grazed over them. “We don’t have to talk at all,” she found herself saying in a moment of bravery.

Lexa tensed at that, her eyes flicking quickly back up to Clarke’s as if searching for something in her stare, making sure that she had heard correctly. Then, a slow smile spread over Lexa’s lips, pulling at the corners of her mouth as she leaned in, closing the distance between them. Clarke didn’t hesitate as she covered that confident smirk with her own lips, engulfing Lexa’s mouth as primal desire surged through the both of them.

Lexa’s lips were hot against hers, tasting faintly of salt and the slight tinge of iron as the kiss started out slow, but then quickly evolved into something so much more. All the emotions of the day came crashing down on them, lighting a fire in their blood that threatened to consume the world if not sated. Clarke felt the drag of Lexa’s tongue against her lips pushing into her desperately as she opened her mouth, letting their tongues tangle together and sending a wave of warmth flooding through her body that pooled deep between her thighs.

The Commander shifted forward, never breaking their kiss as she moved to straddle Clarke, a leg on either side of her waist. Her hands raked over the length of Clarke’s body, finding purchase in the hair at the base of her neck and tangling themselves there as she turned her head and deepened the kiss. A throaty moan escaped Clarke’s throat as she curled her fingers in the fold of Lexa’s nightgown, lifting it up over her head without second thought.

Lexa was naked underneath, and Clarke broke the kiss just long enough to let her eyes devour the Commander’s impeccable body. She was lean and tanned and her prominent abs were rigid beneath Clarke’s fingers, her breath catching in her throat as Clarke’s hands found their way up to her breasts. Lexa’s nipples were already stiff beneath her touch, firm as Clarke rolled them between her fingers. Lexa’s sharp intake of breath was lost as Clarke swallowed it with another kiss, pushing her tongue into the Commander’s mouth as Lexa’s hands found their way beneath the hem of Clarke’s nightgown.

“May I?” Lexa asked, breaking the kiss so that she could meet Clarke’s gaze. The green of her eyes was nearly invisible behind blown out pupils, dilated and surging with desire.

Clarke nodded once, unable to find her voice as she shifted forward to help the Commander lift the nightgown over her head. She watched as Lexa’s eyes went wide, taking in her naked form, raking over every single inch of her body with reverence and adoration written plainly in her divine features. She stared at Clarke as if she wanted to worship her, and found her absolution in Clarke’s lips as their mouths crashed together in another heated kiss, the fire suddenly burning a thousand degrees hotter.

Lexa’s hands moved over Clarke’s bare shoulders, skittering down to her chest where they came to a stop over Clarke’s full breasts, kneading them urgently beneath her palms. Her lips moved from Clarke’s mouth across her jawline, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake as her mouth closed over the tender flesh on Clarke’s throat, desperate to leave her mark behind. Clarke felt her stomach flutter as Lexa’s mouth moved up over her ear, gently nipping at the lobe between her teeth as she breathed hot and raggedly, sending a shudder through Clarke’s entire body.

“I want you, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her voice low and seductive.

Clarke realized just how badly as Lexa lowered herself down onto one of Clarke’s thighs, her center hot and slick and dripping as she pushed herself into Clarke’s bare skin. “Lexa, fuck,” she mumbled behind a sharp intake of air.

Lexa simply chuckled, again trailing kisses down Clarke’s neck, leaving bruises behind as her mouth made its way down to Clarke’s breasts. Clarke practically came undone as Lexa sucked a nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it as it hardened, and then gently nipping at it with teeth as a moan ripped through Clarke’s chest. Lexa took it as a sign to proceed and she didn’t hesitate as she repeated the same action on the other side, leaving Clarke’s nipples sore and aching for more as her mouth moved on to more pressing matters.

Clarke let her head fall back as Lexa shifted her weight off of her, letting one of her hands dip slowly down towards Clarke’s center while the other one continued its work with her breasts. Lexa’s fingers trailed further still, just barely plunging into Clarke’s folds ever so slightly as she gasped in surprise, feeling how slick and completely soaked Clarke was as a gentle moan escaped her lips.

“Oh…Clarke,” Lexa breathed, voice rough and straining beneath her desire.

“Lexa, please,” Clarke gasped, unable to contain her need any longer.

The Commander didn’t hesitate to oblige, grinning wickedly as her hand plunged again into Clarke’s folds. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as Lexa’s fingers moved expertly over the tender bundle of nerves at the center of her thighs, circling slowly, and then faster as Clarke panted her name. Her fingers danced over Clarke’s entrance, teasing a sharp gasp from her lips before trailing back up to her clit and resuming work there. Clarke couldn’t take the teasing any longer, months of pent up sexual desire pulsating heavy between her legs, and she reached down to close her fingers around Lexa’s wrist, shoving her hand down to where she needed it.

Lexa chuckled, low and raspy, but didn’t protest. She granted Clarke’s wishes, slowly dipping one finger inside of Clarke, thrusting it in to her knuckle before gently pulling it all the way out and repeating the action. Clarke felt her fingers gripping at the fabric of the couch as Lexa slowly worked a second finger in beside the first, slightly increasing her pace. Clarke couldn’t help it when her hips began to surge upwards, pushing forward in time with Lexa’s thrusts as another moan escaped her, far beyond her control.

She was already coming undone as Lexa parted her legs further, humbling herself before Clarke as her mouth trailed down, stopping just short of her goal to spare a glance up at Clarke. The question in her eyes was answered with a curt nod from Clarke, unable to even form a coherent thought, yet alone words to grant permission. Lexa lowered her head, holding Clarke’s waist down with her left arm while her right hand remained fast at work, and then her tongue was joining in the efforts.

Her mouth was hot and slick on Clarke’s clit, her tongue expertly moving in patterns that had Clarke bucking against the weight of the arm that held her down. Clarke felt the familiar build deep within her stomach, her thighs already quaking with the effort of her building orgasm. Lexa turned her fingers upwards, finding the sweet spot on the inside of Clarke’s wall that had her entire world shattering as the orgasm wracked through her body.

Clarke cried out Lexa’s name over and over again, shouting it towards the heavens as if chanting a desperate prayer. She leaned back as Lexa’s fingers moved slowly to help her ride out the peek of her orgasm, and then ceased altogether once the trembling had eased to only slight quivering. She remained between Clarke’s thighs, lapping up every bit of her orgasm before pulling herself up to press a gentle kiss to Clarke’s lips.

Clarke tasted herself on Lexa’s tongue and the sensation had her burning with a whole new desire, pressing into the kiss with a desperation that only one thing could quench. Her fingers dug themselves into the skin above Lexa’s hips, grasping her tightly as she flipped her over to reverse their positions. Her mouth found Lexa’s again, all her pent up fear and worry leaving her body as she felt the Commander’s solid body beneath her. Lexa was alive and well and so fucking wet as Clarke pushed a thigh between her legs, teasing her throbbing clit with the pressure.

“Clarke!” Lexa gasped, breaking the kiss as her tongue clicked over the –k with even more emphasis than normal.

Clarke smiled against her lips, loving the way her name sounded on them, and wanting nothing more than to hear her shout it again and again. She trailed kisses along the sharp edges of Lexa’s perfect jawline and down her neck, stopping to taste the way her pulse thrummed rapidly just beneath the skin. Her hands roamed up Lexa’s stomach, palming her breasts once more as her mouth moved its way down to the rigid lines of her collarbone as she let her teeth nip gently at the skin there, drawing a sharp gasp from the Commander.

Lexa’s hands moved up over Clarke’s back, her nails digging into the skin just over her shoulder blades as she pulled her in deeper, desperately wanting more. The sharp pain only fueled Clarke further as she ran her tongue down the length of Lexa’s body, stopping briefly to pull a stiff nipple into her mouth before continuing down between her breasts, over her stomach, and stopping just short of her target. Lexa’s skin was salty with sweat beneath Clarke’s lips, the faint tinge of lavender from her soap clinging to her body and Clarke longed to taste the rest of her.

Lexa’s hips canted slightly upward as Clarke flicked her tongue over her center, ever so slightly, just the whisper of a touch, but her reaction had her clearly yearning for more. Clarke dipped her head lower, parting Lexa’s folds with her tongue and letting it swipe over her clit and she practically came a second time at the taste of Lexa’s flavor, sweet and tangy, in her mouth. She needed more, and instantly her mouth was closing over Lexa’s sex again, enjoying the tiny whimpers that escaped the Commander’s throat.

“Mmm,” Clarke hummed against her clit and the vibration of it had Lexa’s thighs clamping tightly around her head, holding her in.

Clarke’s hands found their way down Lexa’s body, one pausing to find purchase over her hip, while the other dipped beneath Clarke’s chin, gently teasing the wetness pooling at Lexa’s entrance. Lexa’s whimpers grew louder and Clarke took it as a sign to proceed, gently pushing one finger in, ever so slowly, before working in a second finger next to it. Lexa squirmed wildly beneath her, surrendering all control as Clarke slowly curled her fingers upward, finding that one magical spot and pressing into it.

“Clarke, please,” Lexa whispered, though her voice was slightly muffled with her thighs still clenched over Clarke’s ears. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

Clarke had no intentions of stopping. Not until she brought Lexa to the edge and sent her tumbling over the other side. She quickened her paced, pumping in and out of the Commander and loving the way Lexa’s hips thrust upward in time to meet her, pulling her in as deeply as she could. But, Clarke wanted to go deeper. She drew her fingers all the way out, and then pushed them back in, burying herself in Lexa up to her knuckles as her tongue danced circles over her clit.

She could feel Lexa’s release building within her, her thighs trembling and the chiseled muscles of her abs tightening beneath Clarke’s free hand. Lexa’s breath came to her in quick pants, getting faster and faster, even as Clarke picked up her speed once more. She could tell when Lexa finally found release, her walls clenching tightly around Clarke’s fingers as her orgasm seized through her entire body. Lexa’s head was back, her eyes clenched shut as she cried out Clarke’s name, and Clarke did not stop until every last tremor had played its part. 

She glanced up at Lexa through heavy lids, slowly and deliberately bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking them dry with an audible pop. Lexa’s eyes went wide and her tongue flicked out over her lips as she reached down and pulled Clarke up to her, kissing her deeply as her arms wrapped possessively around her waist. Clarke could feel the way Lexa’s breath was trembling against her lips and how her hands were shaking where they rested atop her hips. She instantly pulled back, gazing down into the endless forests of Lexa’s eyes as she searched for meaning within them.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Clarke asked, her voice husky and still laced with desire. The affectionate name had slipped out, but it felt completely right, so she didn’t move to take it back.

Lexa smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Clarke’s forehead before answering. “Nothing is wrong, it’s just…” her voice trailed off as she searched for her words, green eyes finding Clarke’s before she spoke again. “You were right, Clarke,” she whispered. “Life is about more than just surviving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a lot just happened. First off, yes I made the choice to kill Roan here instead of Nia, and I understand that some people are a fan of his character, so I apologize. I really just felt, personally and creatively, that Nia is a wonderful villain and adds so much to the story, and I think the show did her character soooo dirty by having her die to further Roan's plot. So, yes, I killed Roan to fuel Nia's hatred for Lexa even further still, and we are going to see a hole mess of backlash next week. From here on out, we're going to moving away from the show for the most part and heading towards the story that I've built, so I hope you're all enjoying it. See you next week!
> 
> -Alex
> 
> p.s. I would really love to hear some feedback here on what I've done with these scenes, so give me a shout or leave a comment!


	11. Part Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen. This chapter does so much in terms of moving the story forward, but it was also particularly difficult to write. I made a creative decision here that I was seriously thinking about going against, but ended up running with it anyway because it happened to fit well with the story I am trying to tell. That being said, this chapter we get to see a bit of a role reversal between Clarke and Lexa in which Clarke takes control of a hopeless situation while Lexa falls apart and it is does wonders in terms of both of their characters, so I hope you guys see it the same way that I do.
> 
> Also, I have to warn you in advance, there are graphic depictions of death and violence in this chapter, and things become quite gruesome, so if that sort of thing bothers you, then I suggest a quick skim to spare yourself the details.
> 
> -Alex

Clarke awoke with the sun, feeling well rested for the first time in weeks, the soft yellow light of dawn tugging her gently to consciousness through her eyelids. Exhaustion had taken her the night before; the emotions of the day mixed with the passion of the night had swallowed her completely, leaving her without nightmares for once. They had fallen asleep on the couch, tangled up in each other's limbs, warm bare skin flushed with heat as they cuddled against one another. At some point during the night, Clarke vaguely remembered getting up to fetch the fur duvet from the bed, and it now lay draped over top of them. She was sprawled out over Lexa, her head resting against the Commander's naked chest, her left leg thrown across Lexa's waist and her arms wrapped tightly around Lexa's solid core. She idly counted the beats of the Commander's heart thrumming beneath her ear, pounding steadily as she breathed heavy with sleep, and she was reminded that they were extremely fortunate to be in this moment. If things had not gone their way the day before...Clarke didn't even want to think about it.

She glanced up at Lexa, her face serine and nearly goddess-like in the morning light, her eyes dashing beneath her lids with whatever vivid dream she was having. She looked beautiful, her wild brown hair splaying out on the pillow behind her and her skin appearing almost luminous against the dawning sun, and Clarke had to swallow back the lump of affection that welled deep in her throat. It was moments like this that she truly cherished; the moments in which Lexa was simply Lexa, soft and pure and entirely free from commitment and duty. For now, the part of her that was the Commander was put to rest, and Clarke suddenly found herself overwhelmed with the desire to draw this woman, her fingers itching to capture this blissful moment in eternity.

She softly wiggled herself free from Lexa's warm frame, moving slowly and tenderly as not to wake her before gently tugging the plush duvet up to her chest. Her joints popped as she moved away, a welcome soreness resonating in the muscles between her thighs and she couldn't help the satisfied smile that played at her lips. The night before had been one of the best of her life, despite the events that had led to it, and she let her thoughts toy with the idea that perhaps one day this could simply be how things were. When all was said and done and there were no more wars to be fought or battles to be planned or duties to be upheld, then perhaps they could find their peace wrapped up in each other. Maybe one day they would owe nothing more to their people.

Clarke knew that the moment they left the sanctuary of that room, they were stepping into a world of uncertainty, and despite their efforts, they were sitting on the cusp of war. She didn't know what would happen now, following the trial by combat the day before, but she knew that Nia would not likely surrender quietly. She knew that her people were not yet safe, and that she and Lexa were in more danger than either would admit aloud, but that still did not stop her heart from skipping beats each time her gaze met those endless green eyes. She had given her body to Lexa, but more than that, she had given her her heart. Now she just needed to find the right moment to tell her. 

Love was not weakness. There was nothing weak about the fierceness in which she would protect the girl in front of her. There was nothing weak in the dedication that they each gave to their people. Love was strength. She wanted to show the Commander that. Deep down, she hoped that she already had. But in this moment, they were free from their titles and free from their duties, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to freeze it in time.

She wandered over to the nightstand and quietly pulled open the top drawer, removing the leather-bound sketchpad and ornately carved pencils that Lexa had given her before their journey to _Azgeda_. She felt guilty that she had not used them yet, but there had been too little time and too many pressing matters to attend to, but she intended to use them now. She found a dagger in the weapons locker at the foot of Lexa's bed and made quick work of sharpening the charcoal pencils to fine points before settling down on the cushioned sofa directly across from where Lexa was still sound asleep on the daybed. She wrapped a bed sheet around herself to keep warm as she shifted into a comfortable position and set her eyes to work.

Clarke stared at her a while longer, taking in every detail of her muse, watching the way Lexa's brow knit and furrowed with the actions of her vivid dream and how the hair around her face fluttered with each breath of her gentle sighs. Warmth flooded through Clarke's body, but not the sort that demanded to be felt or sated, rather the kind that bristled with need and utter longing. She found it hard to believe that this was the same woman who wielded blades as if wielding death itself, fierce and skilled as she battled valiantly for her life less than a day before. Lexa was a warrior, expert and lethal, but at the same time she could separate herself from her armor and exist as the woman that Clarke undoubtedly loved. She didn't even realize it when her hand finally started dancing across the empty paper, laying down curvy lines and tracing the flow of Lexa's elegant body against the blank canvas.

She was turned towards Clarke, but only slightly, her features slack as a beam of morning light washed over her face. Her plump pink lips were slightly parted beneath high cheekbones and a dangerously sharp jawline, and Clarke could make out the tinge of pink that gently kissed her cheeks just below the surface. Her pencils flew across the parchment, etching and shading, lending expert skill to even the smallest of details. Lexa's hands rested atop the white fur duvet, one across her chest, tribal tattoo dark against her milky flesh, and the other at her side, the blanket just barely covering the swell of her bare breasts. Clarke tried to keep the thought of Lexa's naked body from her mind and the way her tan skin looked almost gold in the dim light of bobbing candle flames, and she was grateful for the duvet that covered the distraction now.

She didn't know how long she had been lost in the unwavering concentration that came with her art, but she thought it might have been a few hours by the strength of the sunlight now flooding through the balcony doors in torrents. She was nearly done with her sketch when the serine look on Lexa's angelic face dipped into something a little darker. Her brow furrowed and her features twisted with what looked almost like pain as she began to let out soft whimpers, and Clarke's perfectly still image was instantly shattered. She tossed the sketchbook aside and quickly hurried over to Lexa, sitting down beside her and running soothing hands up the length of her arms as she tried to rustle her from the nightmare.

"Lex, baby, wake up," Clarke said softly, trying desperately to pull her from the clutches of the dream.

Lexa bolted upright, green eyes wide as she inhaled deeply, gasping for breath and looking around wildly as if searching for an attacker. Her brow was drenched in sweat and Clarke felt her entire body trembling beneath her hands as she struggled to gain control of her ragged breathing. Clarke's heart broke in her chest and she wished that she could take some of Lexa's pain and burdens the way she had done for her. She would do anything to erase that look of terror that danced behind Lexa's wide eyes, even as they flew to meet Clarke's own.

"You're okay," Clarke cooed, scooping Lexa's hand in one of hers as she brought the other one up to cup Lexa's cheek. "You're okay. It was just a dream."

Lexa swallowed deeply, choking back whatever fears that had been balled in her throat as she relaxed into Clarke's grasp. Her breathing slowed and her shoulders melted as the color returned to her face. "I am fine, Clarke," she breathed, her voice steady. "Sometimes the Commanders that came before me talk to me in my sleep. I saw their deaths; at war, at the hands of an assassin."

"How is that even possible?" Clarke asked. She had heard Lexa say time and time before that death was not the end and that the spirit of the Commander lives on in the next, but she was still clueless to the meaning.

"Their spirits live on in the Flame, and the Flame lives on within me," she replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. The Commander took notice of where the thin sheet slipped off Clarke's shoulder and made an effort to gently pull it back up, her cheeks blushing as she realized they were both bare beneath the blankets that wrapped around them.

"What does that mean?" Clarke questioned. "Is that some sort of metaphor?"

Lexa stared at her a moment as if debating whether it was worth the explanation or not. After a minute, she smiled gently, letting out a heavy sigh as she pulled the hair up off the back of her neck. "Here," she said, reaching for Clarke's hand and pressing it to the fading infinity tattoo that disappeared into her hairline. "Do you feel that?" she asked.

Clarke's fingers fumbled over a rigid scar that she had never noticed before, and just below that she could feel the hard swell of a lump below the surface of Lexa's skin. Her first reaction was to be alarmed, fearing some sort of tumor, but the more her fingers explored the spot, the more she realized that the lump had a geometric shape, the edges sharp and precise. Whatever it was in Lexa's neck, it was not natural, and judging by the thick scar above it, it had been placed there surgically.

"Lexa, what is that?" Clarke asked, trying to hide the alarm in her voice.

Lexa's face was impassive as she spoke, "That is the Flame, Clarke," she explained. "When a Commander is killed and a new Commander is chosen, it is passed on to the next. Only a person of the blood may carry the Flame."

Clarke let her fingers linger on the lump a little longer as she tried to piece together what exactly it was. It felt very much like a microchip. She made a mental note to ask Raven what type of technology it could be the next time she saw her. "Can it be removed?"

If the question surprised or offended Lexa, she did not show it. "Not by force," she replied. "Only death or a spoken phrase may remove the flame. Only the Commander knows the phrase; that too being passed from one to the next. As Keeper of the Flame, it is Titus’s job to perform the ceremony."

Clarke let her hand travel back around to Lexa's cheek, her thumb idly running along the sharp edge of her jawline as their gazes swam together. "You said only death or a unanimous vote can remove a Commander from power," Clarke mused, letting ideas flood her mind.

"What of it?"

"Well if you were outvoted, would you remove the flame and pass it on to the next in line to receive it?"

Lexa nodded, question furrowing her brow. "I would have no other choice, Clarke."

"Well, then why can't you one day choose your predecessor?" Clarke asked. "What if one day you owed nothing more to your people and your duties were finished? What if instead of having your novitiates fight to the death, you would be alive to choose your predecessor yourself and pass the Flame on willingly?"

A faint smile tugged at the edges of Lexa's mouth and she pressed it to Clarke's lips in a gentle kiss. "I have often times wondered this myself," she admitted. "Though no Commander has ever lived long enough to pass the Flame on willingly. That is why we have the conclave."

“Well then I guess you will be the first,” Clarke answered, returning her smile. 

Whatever the technology was that was implanted in the back of Lexa’s neck, the Grounders believed in it as if it were religion, and she wasn’t one to question the beliefs of others. But if there was any other way than to have a group of children fight to the death, then she would do her best to see to it. More than that, she would give her own life to ensure the safety of Lexa’s, though she knew the Commander would protest even the thought of it.

“We can hope, Clarke,” Lexa replied, pulling the duvet up over her body as she stood. Her eyes landed on the nearly finished sketch where it rested on the couch that Clarke had formerly occupied. She wandered towards it, scooping it up in her hands and examining it in awe as if it were something precious.

“Oh, um,” Clarke stumbled. “It’s not finished yet.”

Lexa held the picture out in front of her, eyes raking over every detail, an expression of wonder crossing her usually stoic features. She glanced up, and a small grin tugged up the edge of her mouth. “This is beautiful,” she whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” Clarke replied automatically. “I had inspiration.”

Lexa carefully set the picture down where she found it before turning towards Clarke, pulling her a step closer so that their chests were touching. One hand was around the blanket that clothed her, the other around Clarke’s waist, as she leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. Lexa’s eyes hovered on Clarke’s lips, her breathing shallow as she took her in with complete reverence, holding her as if she was clinging to something that she worshiped above all else. Clarke didn’t think she would ever get used to the way that Lexa looked at her, but her thoughts on the matter were lost as the Commander brought their lips together.

The kiss was gentle and passionate, just a tender caress before Clarke drew her in further, breathing deeply the scent of forest and candles that was so uniquely Lexa. Their tongues did not swim together and their teeth did not clash, but the kiss lingered still, drawn out as if almost desperate for the simple contact. The moment was not charged with lust or desire, but rather laced with wonder and understanding and need. It was intimate, as if sharing some secret knowledge, yet it was obvious just what that secret was and what three little words danced behind it. 

When they finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. “We should dress, Clarke. The council will be waiting for us.”

“What’s going to happen?” Clarke asked. “You defeated Nia’s challenge, so what comes next?”

Lexa’s face fell for a moment, but her voice was steady when she spoke. “Today, Nia will be executed for treason.”  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke found herself in the throne room once again for what felt like the millionth time in the last three days. She suspected now that she was an Ambassador of the Coalition, much of her time would be spent in this very room, passing judgments and making deliberations on matters of politics. The other ambassadors and delegates sat in their chairs around her, the symbols of their clans hanging prominently above the chairs behind them. Though it was the middle of the day, a thick cloud cover outside lent a darkness to the room that cast a cold shadow over the entire hall and Clarke felt a shudder run down her spine. The room was silent today, solemn with the knowledge that one of their own was about to die, and not a single person spoke as their eyes shifted from each other and then to Lexa at the front of the room. Titus stood beside her in his normal position, ever faithful to his grey robes and impassive expression that bordered on the lines of a permanent scowl.

Lexa sat in her throne of wood and steel, legs crossed as she surveyed the room and searched her mind for the words she wished to say. She was dressed in full armor today, black on black with her crimson colored cape trailing down to the floor behind her. She wore her shoulder guard and beneath it was the metal guarder that ribbed around her waist, hugging her curves in a way that Clarke couldn’t help but admire. Her sword was strapped to her side looking dangerously lethal even in its scabbard and Clarke remembered the last execution she had witnessed when Lexa drove that same sword through the chest of a trusted friend. Her green eyes were steely beneath the cog symbol of the Coalition and her hair was braided back off her face giving a better view to those ridiculously high cheekbones.

Clarke’s mind wandered back to the night before as she raked in Lexa’s appearance and she had to force herself to look away to keep the heat from pooling between her thighs again. This was not the time to be having those sorts of thoughts. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as silence continue to weigh heavy in the room, adjusting the gun that she had remembered to strap into place for fear that she might need it. She was dressed in full Grounder attire; brown leather greaves tucked into brown leather boots with a fur-lined overcoat to protect her from the biting autumn cold. Her hair ran down past her shoulders, braided in intricate strands and falling to frame her face, and if not for the gun at her side, it would never have been obvious that she was a member of _Skaikru_.

Lexa cleared her throat as she stood to finally address the room, pulling Clarke’s gaze back in. “We come together today, as we have countless times before, to watch a woman die,” Lexa spoke, her voice strong and ringing off the high ceilings. “Brothers and sisters, I know that some of you have wavered your faith in my command as of recently, but I ask you now to look ahead,” she continued, letting her gaze sweep across each and every person.

Clarke watched the way she carried herself, shoulders square and chin high, and the way she lent enough strength to her voice to command an entire army even though there were little more than a dozen of them in the room. She felt a wave of pride sweep through her and again found it hard to believe that this was the same woman who trembled beneath her kiss and left a single candle burning at night to ward off the darkness. She also felt a pang of guilt, hopeless to the knowledge that as long as Lexa was the Commander of the Coalition, she would always exist as two people, torn between who she was and who she needed to be.

“Roan is dead,” Lexa pressed on. “But, the crimes of _Azgeda_ cannot be answered by one man. Nia must face justice for her actions, and with her death comes the promise of a new future. A world in which violence does not always answer violence; a world in which our children can flourish without the shadow of death; a world in which our people know peace without the threat of war,” she finished, letting her words echo off the walls.

Clarke scanned the faces of the ambassadors looking for signs of consent or protest as a wave of goosebumps swept over her body. Lexa’s words were impassioned, full of promise and hope, and she could see that same hope reflecting in the eyes of some of the ambassadors. Others remained stoic, as if not quite convinced, though holding their tongues for fear of their lives. Lexa was moving to change the way they had always done things, motioning for peace instead of war, and for compromise instead of strength, and there was clear apprehension in these things that were so unfamiliar to the Grounder way of life. _What is foreign is often much harder than what is known_ , Lexa’s words from long ago rang in the back of her mind.

“Bring in the accused!” Titus called, his voice sounding all the way to the back of the room.

Clarke braced herself to see Nia one last time, to see the life drain from her eyes as the blood drained from her body, and to feel the relief that came with her death. She never thought she would see the day where she would be relieved by the death of another human being, and she realized just how far she’d come since Lexa found her in the woods after Mount Weather. Justice was being done. The lives of _Skaikru_ that were lost in the mountain would be avenged, and the threat of war would be eliminated, and maybe they could finally find peace at the end of this day.

They waited a moment longer, but the doors still did no open. “Bring in the accused!” Titus yelled once more, a little louder in case the guards had not heard him the first time.

Again no motion came, and whispers began to surge through the room. Clarke spared a glance towards Lexa, lending a silent question to her eyes, but found only confusion in the Commander’s features. Titus leaned in and whispered something in her ear before taking a step towards the back of the room, but just as he moved the doors finally burst open, causing him to freeze in his tracks. A guard stumbled through and crashed to his knees, a thick gash streaming blood down his face as his hands attempted to staunch a deep wound in his stomach. There were shouts in the hallway behind him followed by the sound of clashing metal.

His eyes were wild when they finally fell on Lexa at the head of the room. “The Ice Queen,” he muttered, blood spilling out of his mouth and down his chin. “Escaped. The novitiate training ground is under attack.”

Clarke watched as Lexa’s expression fell from impassive to blatantly terrified, barely having time to register the man’s words before Lexa flew by her in a blur, hand gripped tightly around the hilt of her sword and red cape furling behind her. Titus exchanged a horrified glance with her before taking off after his Commander and Clarke didn’t even give it a second thought as she shot out of her chair and sprinted behind them. Two things were certain in that moment; the first, was that Nia had more allies than they had counted on; and the second, was that Ice Nation was going after Lexa’s legacy. They were going after Aden.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The city was surprisingly calm despite the chaos that was ensuing within the tower and on the outskirts where the novitiate training ground sat. Clarke had leaped over dozens of fallen guards, injured or worse, as she pursued Lexa through the cluttered halls, ducking and dodging the few remaining warriors that were still locked in combat. Clarke wondered how so many Ice Nation warriors had made it to the center of the city, armed to the teeth and looking to kill, without being spotted by members of the guard. Her question was aptly answered as soon as they emerged from the tower into the humid afternoon air.

The streets were jam packed with citizens, even more so than they had witnessed in the previous days, and she could only attribute it to the fact that winter was nearly upon them and people were struggling to finish preparations. Every man and woman was clad in furs to keep warm beneath the storming grey cloud cover and she couldn't even begin to discern from which clans they hailed; they could all be _Azgeda_ as far as she could tell. Some pulled carts, others had large sacks slung over their shoulders, and most had hoods concealing their features or scarves wrapped around their faces and Clarke realized that it was probably quite easy for a group of Ice Nation warriors to make their way into the tower to free their queen. All Nia had to do was make it out of the tower and disappear into the crowd.

They didn't make it two steps out into the dim daylight before a large unit of city guards surrounded them, pushing them into the center of a protective barrier as they parted the hordes of people in the streets. Lexa moved at a dangerous speed despite the obstacles in her path and Clarke had to sprint just to stay on her heels as they rushed towards the outskirts of Polis. The Commander's shoulders were stiff and her knuckles were white around the hilt of her sword and Clarke could see the way her gaze quickly flicked over each person in the crowd, scanning for threats. She was scared, though her hardened expression would not show it.

"Shut down the city gates!" Lexa shouted at the guard who had fallen into stride beside her. "Nobody else gets in or out!"

The man nodded once before changing course a sprinting off in the opposite direction. Lexa watched him go and spared a glance over her shoulder, doing a double take when her eyes landed on Clarke as if just now noticing that she'd followed. Her features softened for a moment, only before turning to steel beneath a furrowed brow. "Go back, Clarke," she called over her shoulder, her tone that of the Commander rather than Lexa. "It isn't safe for you out here."

"Like hell I will," Clarke spat. She had her gun in her hand and she was far too stubborn not to stand by Lexa's side for this, especially when it was their home that was under attack.

Lexa seemed to have expected her answer because she didn't make an effort to protest further, not wanting to waste the time or energy. Instead, she turned forward again. "Then, keep up," she said, her tone strained as she quickened her pace, pressing through the city as if the streets themselves were on fire.

The truth was: Clarke was terrified. Not for herself, but for Aden and the rest of the novitiates. The thought of the children locked in battle with warriors twice their age and fighting for their lives sent a wave of crippling fear through her body that tore through her stomach like shrapnel. She had seen the novitiates fight before; they were all skilled warriors, but none of them would be able to stand against multiple attackers that easily doubled their size. Not even Aden. All Clarke could do was hope that the dozens of guards she saw normally hovering around the training grounds while the novitiates practiced would do their jobs.

They reached the base of the hill and began the short climb upward and Clarke could already hear the clash of metal on metal and the agonizing cries of pain echoing down from the top. Her nerve endings screamed at her to turn around, to look away and hide her eyes from the view that she knew she'd find, but her legs spurred her forward instead, betraying her. Dread seethed in her core and pounded heavily in her head, gripping her entire body with trepidation and the only thing that motivated her to keep moving was the thought of Aden in danger and the knowledge that Lexa was about to throw herself into battle once more. She had to be there to protect the people she cared for most.

They reached the top of the hill and Clarke felt all her willpower leave her body and her feet rooted in place as if her boots were married to the earth beneath them. The training ground was in a state of utter disarray; bodies littered the ground; large, clad in fur or armor, and those that were far too small to be gone from this world, the dirt stained black with their blood. Clarke had to heave back the bile that burned hot in the back of her throat as she took in the sight of the lifeless eyes of one of the novitiates, staring at her as if peering right into her soul. It sent her crashing through flashbacks of Mount Weather and the hundreds of people that died by her hand within those stone walls, and the force of the memories was enough to pull her breath from her lungs.

The sheer amount of bodies on the ground was enough to prove that _Azgeda_ had attacked in force and with purpose, looking to eradicate Lexa's line of succession, but it appeared that the young _Natblidas_ had put up a fight. There were far more Ice Nation warriors dead, and the ones that were alive remained locked in battle with what was left of the dwindling guards. She quickly scanned over the faces of the lifeless children, counting as she went, searching for one in particular. She hated herself for breathing a sigh of relief at not seeing Aden among the dead, but she knew that the rest of Lexa's legacy was no more.

She spared a glance at the Commander, hoping to find strength in her eyes before the entire world came crumbling down around her, but all she saw was pain. The bright emerald green was rimmed with red as tears flowed freely down Lexa's cheeks and her expression twisted with agony that she made no attempt to hide. The sight of Lexa so completely raw and broken and entirely _undone_ shattered something deep within Clarke's heart, burning apart in her chest like a meteor crashing through the atmosphere. The pain was so intense, so hot and blinding and bitter, that Clarke felt the world begin to sway around her, threatening to come toppling down as she struggled to keep from passing out.

Lexa's hand in hers anchored her once more as they drew strength from each other, searching desperately for enough to move forward. They didn't have to search for long as the sound of clashing metal pulled them from the daze they had been trapped in. Their hesitation had felt like minutes as they took in the sight of the dead, but in reality it was seconds only, accentuated by Titus rushing into the clearing with the rest of the guards that had accompanied them and commanding them to fan out.

"Heda!" a panicked voice called from twenty yards away and they both instantly whirled around on the spot in reaction to it.

Aden was engaged in battle with Ontari, the _Natblida_ from _Azgeda_ , and they were both drenched in thick black blood, streaming off them in torrents and Clarke couldn't tell who it belonged to. Aden looked exhausted, barely able to hoist his sword up to fend off Ontari's spear, his expression laced with fear and one of his eyes swollen almost completely shut. He stumbled as he moved, struggling to put pressure on his right ankle that appeared to be twisted in an unnatural angle, and his arms were clearly quaking beneath the force of holding off Ontari's blows. She appeared unfazed, grinning wickedly beneath a thick mask of dried blood and the deep scars that framed her otherwise delicate features. Her brown furs were stained various shades of crimson and black and appeared to be soaked as she wielded a spear, twirling it about and thrusting it towards Aden in long arcs and quick jabs that he barely managed to fend off.

"Aden!" Lexa gasped, partly in shock and partly in worry, as she drew her blade and charged into the fray without hesitation. Clarke lifted her gun and took aim, but refused to pull the trigger out of fear that she might miss her target and hit the boy instead.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion, and Clarke looked on in horror at the scene that unfolded before her. Lexa dashed towards them, but even with years of speed and agility training on her side, she could not make it there in time. Aden held up his sword with two hands to block a long downward strike from Ontari, and the force of the blow against his fatigued muscles sent the blade clamoring to the ground. The Ice Nation warrior didn't hesitate as she brought her spear back and swung it in full force like a baseball bat, cracking the wooden shaft of it across Aden's skull. His eyes went wide in surprise before glossing over and rolling back into his head as he crumpled to his knees, but before he could fall further, Ontari thrust her spear deep into his chest just below his left shoulder.

The sight of the spear jutting out of Aden's chest was enough to freeze Clarke's bones, gripping her body like ice, but the sound of Lexa screaming his name was enough to spur her into action. Ontari's smile grew wider as she pulled her spear free, shooting Clarke a devilish wink before turning and sprinting towards the trees that lined the clearing. Lexa darted after her, pulling a dagger from her boot in stride and hurling it towards her enemy as she charged past Aden's fallen body. Clarke watched the dagger slice through the air where Ontari's head had been only a moment before, but didn't spare the altercation a second glance as she crumbled to her knees beside the boy.

He was unconscious, black blood streaming from an angry gash across is forehead, the white of his skull poking through, and Clarke could not tell if he was breathing or not. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as her medical training took over, guiding her actions as if automatic and she had to glance away from Aden’s face in order to stay focused on the task at hand and not fall apart. She pressed her fingers to the artery in his neck, checking for a pulse and holding her breath until she felt the faint thrumming of a weak heartbeat beneath her fingers. Once she knew that he was alive, her hands flew into motion, tearing at the blood-soaked shirt that obscured his chest wound, ripping it open wide enough to see the damage beneath. 

The puncture wound was in his upper chest, pouring out blood in spurting waves, but the boy’s breathing was not labored and from what she could see, the spear had not punctured his lung. She took a moment to roll him gently on his side to examine his shoulder blade and had to choke back the bile that rose up at the sight of the spear tip’s exit wound and the shredded muscle that poked out of the open gash. She knew that his ankle was clearly broken, judging by the bent position of it, but her immediate concern was his obvious concussion and the torrents of blood that he was losing. She pressed her hands to the front of his chest, clamping them over the wound and applying pressure in an attempt to staunch the blood flow, but she could see that it was doing no good, especially with the exit wound in the condition it was in. If she did not act quickly, he would surely die of blood loss.

“Lexa!” she shouted, sparing a glance up to see Lexa locked in a duel with Ontari at the edge of the woods. Ontari appeared to be trying to flee, but each time she made a break for the trees, Lexa would block her path, advancing on her with wild strikes as if attempting to sever limbs from body. 

“Lexa!” Clarke yelled again, lending urgency to her voice. “Leave her!” she urged.

The Commander took a step back, putting distance between herself and Ontari’s spear as her gaze flicked between Clarke and the Ice Nation warrior. There was conflict written in her features, flashing between the need for vengeance and the need to come to Clarke’s aid. In the end, Clarke won out and she watched as Lexa backed slowly away from Ontari, allowing the other girl to disappear into the thick tree line. It only took a few seconds more before the Commander turned and sprinted towards Clarke, skidding to her knees beside the injured boy.

“Clarke,” she sputtered, surveying the damage of Aden’s body as tears sprung up behind her eyes. “Is…” she choked, “Is he…”

“No,” Clarke replied. “But he will be if we don’t act quickly,” she added, glancing around the ruined training ground for anything that she could use to staunch the bleeding. “Find me something, anything, that we can use for bandages!” she commanded, allowing instinct to take over.

Lexa reacted quickly, stumbling over to a fallen Ice Nation warrior and using her dagger to tear off pieces of his tunic. It appeared as if he had died of a head wound, and the clothes were relatively clean and unstained except for a few splotches of blood; it wasn’t exactly sanitary, but it would have to work. Clarke turned her attention back to Aden while Lexa made quick work of making bandages, using her index finger and thumb to pry open one eyelid at a time. His pupils were dilating regularly, which was a good sign, but the sharp shards of skull poking through the flesh on his forehead were enough to make Clarke’s stomach lurch.

Lexa returned a moment later, thrusting the torn pieces of shirt into Clarke’s blood-soaked hands as she huddled over Aden’s unconscious body. She looked terrified, green eyes wide and brimming with tears, and for the first time ever, Clarke could see that Lexa had no idea what to do. The Commander was clearly fighting back the panic that was gripping her, doing all that she could to stay calm even in the face of losing the only family she had left. Clarke took the makeshift bandages and bunched them up, wading them into the wound on Aden’s back in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but they were soaked within seconds and the boy was quickly turning from ghostly white to a pale blue as his lifeblood drained from his body.

“Clarke,” Lexa gasped, clearly reading the hopelessness that she had been attempting to keep from her features. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, save him. You have to save him.”

Clarke felt her own tears fall at the sound of desperation in Lexa’s voice, unable to hold them back any longer. “I…” she began, her voice cracking behind a sob. “I’m doing all that I can.

The rest of the Ice Nation attack must have been fended off because a moment later, Titus was by Lexa’s side, placing a solid hand on her shoulder as he stared down at the fallen boy. His features softened as he watched Clarke work to stop the bleeding, losing hope with each passing second until it looked as if he’d aged ten years in the minute he’d been standing there. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and the moisture behind his brown eyes was clear, even as he tried to hide it.

“Heda…” he whispered, dejected and completely broken. 

“No,” Lexa spat, grinding her jaw to hold back her anger. She would not hear his words.

Clarke wracked her brain, searching for something, any bit of knowledge she could use to help save his life. She had seen patients bleed out on her mother’s table before, and the obvious thing to do was to begin a blood transfusion to allow time to suture the wound, but she had no needles or tubing or any medical supplies whatsoever. She had no way to transfer Lexa’s blood to Aden, and even if she did, she didn’t have any sutures to stitch the wound, and the torn muscle at Aden’s back would require a surgeon to repair if he ever had hope of using his arm again. The next best thing would be to….

Her head snapped up as she scanned around the training ground once more, spying a fire lit in a basin that had not been overturned in the fray. “Titus!” she hissed, drawing his attention. “Heat a blade over the fire until it is glowing hot! Quickly!” she commanded.

“What are you doing, Clarke?” Lexa asked, tone laced with worry.

Clarke glanced up at her as she tore away the rest of Aden’s shirt, leaving him bare chested. “Burning the wound closed,” she replied, her words tasting sour in her mouth.

The only sure way to slow the bleeding was to cauterize the wound, but she knew that it was only a temporary fix, and it would likely damage the exposed muscle beneath. This was the only way to bide them time though, and she would rather him alive and damaged than dead. With surgery and some rehab, he might be able to regain full functionality of his arm. But that would mean that they would have to get him to Abby, to Arkadia, in time to save his life. 

Titus returned a moment later, brandishing a white-hot sword in front of him and shifting it so that Clarke could get her hand around the hilt. She started with the wound on Aden’s chest, pressing the blade to his skin and feeling relief that the boy was unconscious as the skin bubbled beneath the intense heat. When she pulled it away, it was red and violent, brimming with blackened and charred blisters, but the blood oozing from the wound had flowed to little more than a slow trickle. The smell of burnt flesh wafted pungently in the air and instantly Clarke was dragged back into her memory of Mount Weather and the scent of flesh cooking beneath searing radiation. She shook the memory away as she handed the blade back to Titus and instructed him to heat it again as she turned Aden over on his side and set to work tucking the frayed muscles of his left shoulder back beneath the skin. 

She took the heated sword from the Flamekeeper’s hand once more and pressed it to the gaping hole in Aden’s back, doing all that she could to apply minimal pressure and do as little damage as possible to the muscle beneath. She lifted it away again, surveying the wound with her eyes. It was nowhere near closed, festering and charred like the front side, but still leaking blood steadily. She decided it would have to do, too afraid to do any more damage to the area than she’d already done, and settled on winding a makeshift bandage tightly around the area, holding her hand to it to staunch the blood flow.

“We have to go,” Clarke said, letting her eyes dart between Lexa and Titus. “We need to get him to my mom, to the medical facilities at Arkadia, or he will die.”

Lexa shot to her feet, already bending down to scoop the unconscious boy into her solid frame. Her expression was still pained and her eyes were still crowded with tears, but a cold resolution had settled over her features, hard and determined. She gave Clarke a single nod and motioned for her to lead the way to the city gates, but Titus stopped them both before they could get too far.

“Heda,” he began, “If you leave now, the Coalition will break. There will be civil war.”

“Look around you Titus,” she snapped, eyes flicking to the bodies of the fallen novitiates. “The Coalition is already broken. If I do not leave now, Aden will die, and we will still have civil war.”

The Flamekeeper sighed deeply, but did not argue, his gaze settling on Aden’s gaping injuries. “I hope you know what you are doing,” he whispered.

“Find out what happened here. Find out who helped them and where Nia is. Gather the ambassadors and clan leaders that still stand with us, and meet me in Arkadia as soon as possible,” she ordered, issuing commands even as she made her way to the sloping steps that led down the hillside towards the city gates.

A group of guards moved to follow them, ever persistent at Lexa’s heels, as Clarke shifted close to her side so that she could still keep pressure on the wound in Aden’s shoulder. They didn’t have to go too far as another group of guards met them halfway, guiding horses behind them as if word had been sent ahead of their need for urgency. Lexa’s regal white stallion was present, but she did not move towards it, instead she edged her way over to the largest horse in the group. It was a massive beast, tall and wide and rippling with muscles, looking as if it could carry three grown men on its back.

A soldier wordlessly made his way over to them, taking Aden’s lifeless form from Lexa’s grasp so that she could haul herself up into the saddle. She reached down, holding out her hand to help Clarke climb up behind her and pushing her towards the back of the horse. Once they were both securely in place, the guard carefully hoisted Aden up, Clarke and Lexa using their full strength to help settle his limp body into the space between them. They slumped his weight against Lexa’s back, and from this angle, Clarke could continue to monitor his vitals and apply pressure to his wound as they made the long trek to Arkadia.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They moved as quickly as their precarious position would allow, galloping at speed through the dark forest that was lit by nothing more than the light of the moon, and even then it disappeared behind thick cloud cover every so often. A small band of guards flanked them, fanning out in front and behind them as they went, present should danger arise. They had been at it for hours now, moving faster than Clarke had expected, and they had not yet stopped to rest. The steed beneath them was powerful and strong, elegant in his strides and persistent in his pace, almost like if the long run had done nothing to tire him.

Aden’s condition had not changed. He had not yet regained consciousness, and the wound in his back was still oozing black blood that had long since soaked through the bandages and most of Clarke’s clothing. She kept her free hand wrapped securely around Aden’s waist, ensuring he stayed atop the horse, while gripping his wrist and monitoring his pulse the entire time. Quite a few times his heart rate had slowed so much that she feared he may have stopped breathing, but then a faint beat a moment later would send relief flooding through her body. However, she wasn’t sure how much longer he would last without proper medial attention and with the constant jarring motion of the galloping horse.

She had done the best she could with the supplies she had on hand, and now it was a matter of keeping him alive long enough to get him to the proper care he needed. They didn’t speak as they traveled, and Clarke’s mind kept wandering back to the training ground; back to the lifeless bodies of the lifeless children that were once Lexa’s legacy. Despite all their talk of trying to spare the children a conclave of their own, they had died anyway, and it sent a wave of anguish crashing through Clarke’s heart that yanked the tears from her eyes without warning. Aden was all that was left, of Lexa’s family and Lexa’s legacy, and Clarke would be dammed if she let the boy she had come to care for so much slip from her grasp.

Lexa kept her focus, head forward, eyes scanning the trees diligently as they moved, searching for any signs of another attack. Every so often she would call to Clarke over her shoulder to check on Aden, and each time her voice grew more and more strained, flooding with angst and worry. If they could move any faster, they would have, but all they could do right now was keep their pace and hope that they made it to Arkadia in time.

“Clarke?” Lexa called over her shoulder once more: just her name, short and strained and nothing more.

“He’s still breathing,” Clarke replied, her voice hoarse with disuse and trembling behind the pain that was gripping her soul.

They had left Titus to solve the mystery of how this could happen, but she had a feeling that this had been Nia’s plan all along if Roan was to lose the fight. With the crowds that had flooded the streets of Polis in preparation for the winter months, it was easy for the Ice Nation war parties to sneak into the city. One had went for the tower to free their queen before her execution, and the other had headed straight for the outskirts, led by Ontari to end Lexa’s line of succession. It was a dual strike, well thought out and well executed, causing enough chaos for both parts of the plan to succeed. Except that Aden was still alive, and Clarke intended to keep it that way.

Just before dawn, the heatless sun barely staining the deep blue sky a shade of murky orange, Clarke felt herself begin to drift off. She hadn’t slept during the night; afraid that should she allow herself a few brief moments of rest, Aden would be lost to them in that time. But now, exhaustion pulled at the threads of her mind, overwhelming in its need for her to give in, and she was nearly helpless to stop it despite the voice in her head yelling at her to stay awake. If she hadn’t slumped forward, her head resting gently on Aden’s uninjured shoulder, she would not have felt the way his body was convulsing beneath her, the rapid shaking lost to the constant gait of the horse.

The convulsions rocked her awake, sending a jolt through her system that brought her mind back from the brink of oblivion. “Lexa!” she yelped, voice flooding with panic. “Stop! Stop the horse, he’s seizing!” she shouted.

Lexa instantly reacted, yanking up on the reins and pulling the horse to a skidding halt as she all but threw herself out of the saddle. Clarke was doing her best to hold Aden’s trembling body steady, but she needed to get him on the ground and turn him on his side to keep him from choking on his own vomit. Lexa reached up and took his limp body in her solid frame, dragging him down off the massive horse as Clarke hopped down behind her and quickly set to work.

She laid Aden on the ground, turning him over on his side and his body shook violently with quaking tremors, his muscles stiff in her arms. She reached over and grabbed a nearby stick, forcing it into his mouth to keep him from biting off his own tongue as the seizures wracked through him and he spewed up the meager contents of his stomach. This was not a good sign; not with the head injury he had suffered, and Clarke reluctantly lifted his eyelids to judge his response to light. His pupils were slow to respond, one much larger than the other, and the whites of his eyes were stained red, bloodshot and burning against the milky color.

“Clarke?” Lexa whimpered, small and barely audible, green eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears despite her hardened expression. She looked as if her entire world was caving in around her and she was absolutely helpless to do anything to stop it.

Clarke held tightly to Aden as the seizure continued to clench at his body. “He’s got cerebral edema,” she said, fighting back the tears in her own eyes. “Or maybe an epidural hematoma.”

Lexa knelt slowly, reaching out and clutching Aden’s hand in hers tenderly as the shaking began to slow. “What does that mean, Clarke?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“His brain is swelling and bleeding,” Clarke explained. “But it’s got nowhere to go because his skull is in the way, and the pressure is causing the seizures.”

Aden finally stopped seizing, slumping in a heap on the ground. The violent shaking had caused the wound on the front of his shoulder to rip open again, and fresh black blood began seeping through the makeshift bandages. His skin was ghostly white and his head wound appeared more violent now that they knew the extent of the injury. They were losing him, and Clarke didn’t know what to do, the seriousness of his injuries far beyond her skill level. Even if they did get him to Arkadia in time, there was no guarantee he would ever wake up again, or if he did, there was no assurance that he would not be left with permanent brain damage. But she could not tell Lexa that.

“What do we do?” Lexa asked, echoing her thoughts. The Commander was completely at a loss, trapped in a situation that she had no answer to, and the look of helplessness on her face was unsettling— a look that Clarke had never imagined she would ever see.

Clarke glanced down at Aden, reaching out and tenderly feeling for his pulse point on his neck. His heartbeat was slow and erratic, almost fluttering against her fingers as if straining to do the simple work that was keeping him alive. “We have to move,” Clarke said, steel settling in her voice. “Right now. How close are we to Arkadia?”

“Close,” the Commander replied, accepting the help from one of her men to get Clarke and Aden back up onto the horse. “Just a little further.”

“You hear that?” Clarke whispered in Aden’s ear as Lexa spurred the horse into motion. “Just hang on a little longer.”

Not more than an hour later, Arkadia came into view just over the other side of a small hill, the morning light reflecting brightly off the metal of the downed ship. Clarke felt her breath hitch in her throat at the sight of hundreds of tents sprawled out around the outside of the camp’s walls, and for a moment she panicked, fearing that Ice Nation had already arrived. Then, she remembered that Lexa had sent Indra to gather the warriors from the surrounding villages to serve as a buffer against an enemy attack should one come, and she felt a wave of relief knowing that her people were protected.

The camp was still mostly asleep as they made their way through it, the thundering hooves of their horses likely waking up anyone who had remained in bed. Grounders emerged from tents, some clutching weapons as if prepared for an attack, and others wearing simple looks of confusion as the horses hurried past them towards the large looming gates of Arkadia. The warriors regarded Lexa with great respect, bowing their heads as she rode by, though their gazes lingered on the limp boy in the saddle behind her. They reached the front gates and Lexa quickly slid out of the saddle once more, pulling Aden down behind her and cradling him gently in her arms as if clinging to her own child.

“Heda?” a voice called from behind them.

Indra stopped in her tracks at the sight of Aden’s limp body. Her expression shifted from confused to anger, and then quickly to impassive as her hand fell on the hilt of the sword at her waist. She was clad in battle armor, as she normally was. Laced in place with crisscross straps over her shoulders and down her back. Her brown eyes flicked from Lexa and then quickly over to Clarke before she turned on her heal and began barking orders at the crowd that had begun to gather.

“Open the gates!” Clarke yelled, panicked and begging anyone on the other side to hear her. 

“Clarke?” a familiar voice asked from the guard tower above them.

“Bellamy!” Clarke shouted up to him, letting urgency fill her voice. “Open the gates, quick!”

She saw his face dance into view and waited for a second as his eyes surveyed the scene in front of him before landing on the limp boy in the Commander’s arms. “You heard her, open the gates!” he shouted, and the guards on duty immediately complied.

The gates lurched open in front of them, creaking with the weight of the metal as they moved, and no sooner had a foot of space opened between them than did Clarke step inside, darting towards the medical bay. She felt Lexa on her heels, following as quickly as she could with Aden in her arms. Bellamy fell into stride beside them, jogging to keep up as his brown eyes took in the sight of the injured boy and his expression faltered. He held out his arms, motioning to assist Lexa in carrying Aden’s weight, but the Commander refused to let go.

“Clarke, what happened?” he asked, abandoning the notion as he realized it was pointless.

“Where’s my mom?” Clarke asked. “Find Abby!” she shouted at a group of people that had gathered to gawk at them.

“Clarke?” she heard her mother’s voice call and she whirled around to see her emerging from a dark tunnel that led inside the Ark. Abby’s eyes shifted past Clarke to Lexa and then to Aden, and she quickly went into doctor mode, years of training and experience on her side. “Get him in here, quick!” she directed Lexa towards the medical bay entrance. “Clarke?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Clarke took a steadying breath, remembering her own medical training. “Blunt force head wound to the frontal lobe, definite concussion and signs of cerebral edema,” she rattled off, listing his symptoms. “He’s been unconscious for close to sixteen hours and he started seizing about an hour ago. Stab wound to the chest, through and through, though no signs of labored breathing. I cauterized the wound on site to keep him from bleeding out, but he’s lost way too much blood,” she finished. “He’s also got a clear broken ankle.”

“Lay him down there,” Abby said, directing Lexa to place his body on the operating table at the center of the room they’d rushed into. “He needs a transfusion,” the doctor continued on. “What is this black stuff? Is that his blood?” she asked, incredulously, rolling up her sleeves. 

“Yes,” Clarke replied. “Lexa has the same blood type, she can transfuse.”

Abby took a second to gather her wits, baffled at the medical mystery, but quickly regained her composure. “Okay, Jackson,” she said, glancing at her medical assistant. “Take the Commander into the clinic and draw as much blood as you are able. Clarke, you’re scrubbing in with me,” she commanded.

The medical assistant was only a few years older than Clarke, but he had been training beneath Abby for months now. His brown eyes were wide beneath short-cropped black hair, and his normally browned skin tone was a pasty shade as he surveyed Aden’s injuries. He blinked a few times, breaking his own daze before nodding once and moving quickly to lead Lexa out of the room.

Lexa remained stubbornly in place, despite the persistent hand that was tugging at her arm. Her gaze lingered on Aden, and then moved reluctantly to Clarke as tears danced behind her green eyes once more. “Clarke,” she whispered, voice trembling and laced with question.

Clarke knew they were running out of time, but she took a moment as she strode over to the Commander, placing both of her blood soaked hands on Lexa’s shoulders and holding her gaze, willing her to see the sincerity in her eyes. “We will do everything that we can, Lex,” she said. “I promise. But you need to go with Jackson now and let us work. We can’t save him without your blood.”

Lexa glanced over at Aden’s limp body once more, eyes lingering with reluctance before shifting back towards Clarke. “Clarke, I—

“I care about him too,” Clarke interjected, urgency flooding her tone. “Now you need to go.”

Lexa nodded once, bringing her hand up to rest over Clarke’s atop her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze before turning and sweeping out of the room behind Jackson. Clarke turned to where Abby stood at a sink, already scrubbing in as she ran antibacterial gel up and down her arms. The operating room wasn’t exactly sterile and they had no running water, but without access to the supplies in Mount Weather, they would have to make due with what they had on hand. They were lucky at all to have the power that fueled the Ark’s main functions such as lighting and doors, and it was only because Raven had managed to rig solar panels to the back up generator that drew in just enough energy to run the station’s basic systems.

Clarke echoed her mother’s actions, rolling up her sleeves and pumping several shots of antiseptic gel onto her hands before rubbing them together, the clear gel instantly turning a murky coal color when it mixed with Aden’s blood. “How bad is it?” Clarke asked now that she knew Lexa was out of earshot. Her medical knowledge was enough to tell her that the injuries were severe, but she didn’t know if even Abby would be able to fix this.

“It’s bad,” Abby said, not offering any more. “We need to relieve the pressure in his brain. We’ll start with a burr hole,” she instructed, pulling on latex surgical gloves. 

She made her way over to Aden and adjusted the fluorescent light above the operating table so that she could better examine his head wound. “How did this happen?” Abby asked, though the solemn look in her features revealed that she might have already known the answer.

“Ice Nation,” Clarke replied, pulling on her own set of gloves and setting to work, quickly attaching Aden to the heart rate monitor. When he was all hooked up, the machine started beeping, slow and faint, but steady nonetheless.

Abby nodded, not pressing the matter further. She reached for a bottle of water, using the narrow nozzle on it to spray a pressurized stream onto Aden’s head wound as she made quick work of washing away the thick black blood that had caked itself onto the area. “Not much we can do for the skull fracture,” she stated. “The burr hole will have to go a few inches above it. Scalpel,” she said, holding out her hand.

Clarke quickly handed her the dangerously sharp blade and watched as Abby set to work, slicing a deep incision a few inches into Aden’s hairline. More black blood pooled around the cut, and Clarke again used the pressurized water to wash it away as Abby peeled back the thin layer of skin and hair to reveal glistening white skull beneath. Once the skin was out of the way, the area no longer bled, and Clarke swallowed thickly as she knew what was about to come next.

“Drill,” Abby called.

Clarke retrieved the hand drill, fitting the trepan bit into place before tapping gently on the trigger to see that it was working and handing it over to her mother. The drill bit was circular and flat except for the tiny serrated edges that would make quick work of burrowing into the skull. The doctor placed the drill head against the gleaming white of Aden’s head and pressed down on the button, the high-pitched sound quickly filling the silence around them. Abby burrowed a perfect hole through the half-inch or so of skull before ever so slightly pushing it through to the other side and pulling it away, careful not to hit his brain. More black blood quickly poured out of the hole as the pressure released, but the steady beeping of the heart monitor picked up to a more comfortable rate, a clear indicator that the patient was stabilizing. 

“That’s good,” Abby said, reading his vitals as she handed Clarke the drill. “Cover that with a bandage for now and let’s move on,” she said.

A moment later, Jackson stumbled in to the room carrying two IV bags full of tar black blood, filled to the brim and almost bursting at the seams. His eye was nearly swollen shut and he was cursing under his breath, but he didn’t hesitate as he strung the bags up and fed a deep IV into Aden’s arm, poking the needle through the thin flesh above the crease of his elbow. He twisted the stopper and the blood began to flow easily down through the tubes and into the patient, refilling his body with the much-needed liquid.

The doctor surveyed him as her hands moved to the wound in Aden’s shoulder. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked.

Jackson scoffed. “I told her she had to wait out there,” he said motioning with his head to where Clarke knew Lexa was waiting on the other side of the sealed door. Despite the severity of their current situation, Clarke had to stifle a laugh.

Abby examined the cauterized wound at the front of Aden’s chest, poking delicately at the burnt skin and pulling the edges back to examine the muscle beneath. “It’s a clean wound,” she said. “Through and through, just above his lung. He got really lucky.”

“Can you repair the damage?” Clarke asked, worried about the functionality of the young boy’s arm. Aden was a warrior, and thanks to Ontari and the rest of Ice Nation, he was the only one left in line to become the next Commander. He would need use of his arm.

“I will do my best, honey,” Abby replied softly, reaching for the suture kit. “Why don’t you take the tweezers and do your best to clean up that head lac? Jackson can assist me with the shoulder wound.”

Clarke nodded once, pulling up a chair to sit beside Aden’s head as she set to work removing bits of skull fragments from the laceration that Ontari had bashed into the front of his head. Despite all the bruising and swelling around the angry wound, the laceration itself was quite basic, and Clarke knew that the brunt of the injury had occurred internally rather than externally. The laceration was superficial; one that she had sutured many times before, and she knew that the burr hole they’d drilled was taking care of the pressure inside Aden’s skull, giving it a place to go. She also knew that they wouldn’t understand the full extent of the injury until Aden regained consciousness, if he regained consciousness, and the thought of him being left with permanent brain damage sent a wave of panic down her spine that had her fingers shaking as she stitched the wound.

Every so often, she glanced up at Abby and Jackson, watching them work in perfect harmony as the doctor took careful measure at repairing the muscle beneath the wound. Once she had finished with the front, she instructed Jackson to remove as much as the charred skin as possible, exposing the fresh pink skin beneath; this way the wound would have a lower risk of infection. Abby had a bit more difficulty with the exit wound in the back of Aden’s shoulder, the muscle there far more frayed and damaged from the serrated edges of Ontari’s spear. 

Clarke didn’t know how long they sat in surgery together, the steady beeping of the heart monitor counting the seconds as they ticked by, but the next time she looked out the window, night had fallen outside. She observed as Abby threw the last couple of stitches into the shoulder wound, leaving behind puffy pink lines laced shut with thick black wire. They worked together to bandage Aden’s upper body, winding his arm tightly to his chest to keep it immobilized should he toss or turn or seize any further. Then they put heavy bandages and padding over the exposed hole in Aden’s skull, leaving it open for now so that it could continue draining should need be, but Clarke knew he would have to have another surgery in which Abby placed a metal plate over the hole to keep it sealed.

The last thing the doctor did was set the boy’s ankle, cracking it back into place with a loud _pop_ before sealing it in plaster to heal. It wasn’t until they had finished entirely that Clarke allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. She knew that Aden had a long way to go on the road to recovery, and that they wouldn’t know the extent of his brain trauma until he woke, but for now, he was stable and that’s what mattered. She didn’t even notice the tears that had been running down her cheeks until Abby came over and put a hand on her shoulder, gently thumbing them away after she’d removed her surgical gloves.

“You did really well today, sweetie,” Abby whispered, expression filling with pride. “He wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for your quick thinking.”

Clarke nodded, exhaustion addling her mind as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say. “Thank you for saving him,” she rasped, struggling to keep her tears from her voice.

“You saved him, Clarke,” Abby assured her. “Why don’t you go tell Lexa he’s stable? Jackson and I will monitor him through the night.”

Clarke felt a wave of guilt at not having updated Lexa on his condition sooner, but they had been so wrapped up in trying to control his injuries that she just hadn’t had time. Still, she knew the Commander must have been coming unglued by this point, and she hurried towards the door, not wanting to make her wait any longer. “You’ll come get me if his condition changes?” Clarke asked, calling over her shoulder to her mother.

“Of course,” Abby replied, waving her out of the room.

She caught sight of Lexa the moment she opened the door. The Commander was pacing the hallway, back and forth, heavy black bags beneath her bloodshot eyes and she looked as if she’d been crying. Her hair, which had been tied back in braids before, now hung loosely down her shoulders, and she had removed the thick fur overcoat and shoulder armor that had been stained black with Aden’s blood. She wore skintight black pants that disappeared into her black boots, and a loose fitting long-sleeved grey shirt that hung low off her right shoulder.

Lexa whirled around on her heel and glanced up at Clarke as soon as she heard the whirring of the door opening. She stopped in her tracks, green eyes raking over Clarke’s expression as she looked for any sign of the news to come. Her shoulders were stiff and her spine was rigid, and it appeared as if she was hardly breathing, though her features were as impassive as ever. Clarke allowed a slight small to tug up the corner of her mouth and a moment later Lexa was rushing into her arms, crushing her in a tight embrace as the world faded away around them.

“He’s alive?” she asked, voice so small that Clarke had to strain to hear it. Lexa was quaking in her grasp, her head buried deep in the hair at Clarke’s shoulder as she attempted to draw in steadying breaths.

“He’s alive,” Clarke replied, breathing her own sigh of relief and sinking further into the Commander’s arms.

Lexa pulled away just enough so that she could capture Clarke’s gaze, sky blue and earth green swimming with unshed tears as they both struggled to maintain control of their emotions. Her bottom lip was quaking and her hands were trembling as she brought them up to frame Clarke’s face, pushing away a stray wisp of hair that had fallen in Clarke’s eyes. The way Lexa was looking at her was unlike anything she had ever seen before; she looked at her with such reverence and admiration, as if looking into the face of a goddess and worshiping her with every glance and every touch. Lexa’s thumb was idly tracing the edge of Clarke’s jawline as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms and pressed tightly together, drawing comfort and strength from being so near.

“Thank you, Clarke,” she whispered, voice filled with awe. “I don’t know what I would have done if—

“Hey,” Clarke said, cutting off her dark thoughts. “Don’t think like that. We got him here in time.”

“You got him here. Others were not as fortunate,” Lexa’s voice trailed off as anguish filled her eyes and a single tear escaped down her cheek, dripping heavily off her chin before Clarke could catch it.

Clarke knew she was talking about the other novitiates and the members of her guard that had lost their lives, and she could see the weight it forced on the Commander’s shoulders, heavy and unyielding. “Are you okay?” Clarke asked, letting her hands shift to Lexa’s waist.

“No,” Lexa replied, catching Clarke by surprise; she had expected her to remain ever the pillar of strength. “My novitiates are dead. The Coalition is divided and the Ice Queen has escaped. War is upon us, Clarke. I have failed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there you have it. I know there was a lot of anger towards the way Jason depicted the slaughter of the Nightbloods in the show, which is why I was so hesitant to write this story line, so if you guys are mad about that please just know that it all works towards our cohesive happy end game. The characters of the Nightbloods, other than Aden, just didn't fit in with what I have planned, so I hope you trust me enough to know that I know where all of this is going. But other than that, I hope you enjoyed the way Clarke took control and came up with the answers rather than depending on Lexa, and I feel it was important to highlight that because we haven't seen a lot of Clarke's leadership abilities in stress situations. We've also never really seen Lexa crumble before, so I liked giving her character an emotional ride this chapter. Next chapter will pick up exactly where this one left off and we'll get to see some planning on how to deal with the threat of Ice Nation.
> 
> -Alex


	12. Part Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So before we jump into it, just a few things. First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for the responses last week, they were amazing to read and I really enjoyed hearing from everyone. I wish I had time to reply to them all, but unfortunately I'm a busy girl, but I do see them all and appreciate all the feedback as it helps me with where the story is headed. The second thing is that if you're observant, you'll notice a cap has finally been added on the chapters, so yes I have a timeline as to the events that are going to be taking place and eventually where we will end up. I know five more chapters doesn't seem like much, but I intend them to be much longer than the previous updates, so we will get in everything we need here.
> 
> Okay, so let's get into it. This chapter we will get to see a very vulnerable side of Lexa that we haven't seen yet as she is dealing with the aftermath of her novitiate's deaths and Aden's injuries. We also get to see the way Clarke takes care of her in these moments. Then we get to see a bit of our favorite badass mechanic and a lot of the plot will lay itself out towards the end of the chapter so you will all get an inclination of where we are headed. Enjoy!
> 
> -Alex

"Lexa, shouldn't we talk about this?" Clarke asked, feeling the worry in her own voice.

They were standing in the middle of Lexa's command tent just outside the walls of Arkadia, the canvas walls glowing with the bouncing light of dozens of flickering candles. They could have stayed in Clarke's room within the downed metal fortress, but she knew that the Commander would be more comfortable in the midst of her own people and away from the buzzing wires and whirring technology of the Ark. They hadn't said much on their walk over from the medical bay and Clarke's mind was racing, pumped full of images of slaughter and death and crammed with thoughts of war. It was just as Lexa had said: Nia had escaped, the Coalition was clearly and inevitably divided, and a dozen children were dead. As hopeless as the situation seemed, they needed to look forward to what would come next. They had to prepare themselves for the future and be ready for anything.

The Commander, on the other hand, looked as if she was lost in a daze, ghostly pale and seething as she sunk onto the daybed in the center of the room with a heavy sigh. A fire burned brightly in a nearby basin, the light playing tricks on Lexa's face as she stared blankly ahead, the shadows looking like long slender fingers reaching out to grab her and pull her into the darkness. Clarke imagined that it was probably similar to exactly how the brunette was feeling, teetering on the edge of exhaustion and falling apart, though trying to hide it behind her stoic mask. The strength that Clarke normally found in Lexa's eyes had faded to dull resignation at the moment, and she looked as if she was carrying the weight of an entire civilization on her shoulders, melting beneath the pressure of it. Despite having shed her shoulder armor and fur overcoat, her grey shirt was covered in thick black splotches of Aden's dried blood and her knee high boots were tapping anxiously against the floor. 

"Lexa?" Clarke asked again and the Commander glanced up like she had just heard her for the first time, emerald eyes distant. "You're thinking so loud I can practically hear you."

"I am sorry, Clarke," Lexa spoke, her voice strained as she tried to keep the emotion from it. "I have a lot on my mind."

Clarke stared at her for a moment, taking in her sunken shoulders and the heavy bags beneath her eyes before crossing the room and shifting on to the edge of the couch beside her. "You don't have to deal with this alone," Clarke whispered, feeling the sudden overwhelming need for contact as she scooped Lexa's hand in her own and scooted closer so that their knees were touching. "I'm here for you."

"I should have seen this coming," Lexa replied, refusing to meet Clarke's gaze. "I should have known that Nia would have another plan in the case of Roan's failure."

"You couldn't have known," Clarke answered, sympathetically. "You can’t blame yourself for this, Lex. Nia was in custody. There is know way you could have known she planned this."

"The Ice Queen is always plotting," Lexa seethed, her tone menacing. "I should have killed her instead of Roan and this all could have been avoided. Now my novitiates are dead, and Aden..." she trailed off.

Clarke gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Aden will be okay," she promised, hoping that she sounded more sure than she felt. "You can't beat yourself up over things you should have or could have done. How do you know killing Nia instead of Roan would have changed anything? Ontari led the attack on your novitiates and maybe she would have anyway. Maybe they would all be dead, including Aden. There is no point in speculating what could have happened. All we can do is move forward and think about our next steps."

"I just can't help but think that Roan was the lesser of two evils," Lexa admitted behind a heavy sigh.

"Maybe he was," Clarke agreed. "But there is no way to know that things would have turned out any differently. For all we know, they could have ended up worse. But you're alive and Aden is alive, and right now that's what matters. We need to start thinking about what comes next."

Lexa sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a shaky stream through her nose as if trying to push the thoughts from her mind. "Nia will be gathering her forces," she said, though her voice still lacked its normal conviction. "We should do the same. More will be clear once Titus arrives. He will know who stands with us and whose loyalties have shifted to the Ice Queen. Undoubtedly some clans will remain neutral and we must be prepared for that."

Clarke nodded though Lexa's eyes still remained fixed straight ahead. "We need to meet with my mom and the rest of the Council tomorrow. They'll want to be filled in on all that’s happened."

"Arkadia is an obvious target," the Commander stated. "Nia will want to wipe out _Skaikru_ before we can use your people's technology and weapons to our advantage. We should begin making preparations for that and working out defensive strategies.”

"Raven and Sinclair, the chief engineer, will be able to tell us more about that. They'll know what we can build for our defenses and what type of weapons we have at our disposal."

She saw Lexa give a slight nod of approval, knowing that she had seen what Raven was capable of when she'd blown up the dam at Mount Weather. Raven had also blown up the bridge full of Anya's warriors when the Grounders were still enemies and had rigged the thrust system in the drop ship to incinerate a Grounder war party. Raven was just really good at blowing things up. Clarke couldn't imagine the things she'd build to defend Arkadia with the help of the senior engineer. She also knew that the Ark had a decent supply of guns and ammunition despite the supplies they lost when _Azgeda_ destroyed Mount Weather.

"I will send Indra and a scouting party to monitor the whereabouts of the Ice Nation army and track their positioning. I have no doubt they will be heading straight for Arkadia. When Titus informs me of the clans that still stand with us, I will call upon their armies to fight with us," Lexa carried on, though she stilled after her sentence dropped off and slowly turned her gaze towards Clarke. "And we should discuss...us, Clarke," she added, her expression giving nothing away.

"What is there to discuss?" Clarke asked hesitantly, already feeling the way her heart thumped faster with nerves. Nothing ever good came from a conversation that started with those words.

Lexa's green eyes were steady when she spoke. "Our relationship isn't much of a secret, Clarke," she began, her voice soft. "Nia is aware of my feelings towards you, and as long as I am alive you are in danger, and—

But Clarke was already shooting up off the couch, cutting Lexa off before she could continue. "Nia wants me dead just as much as she wants you dead, Lexa," she spat. "I am the leader of _Skaikru_ for fuck's sake, and us being together puts me in no more danger than I already am. Telling me to stay away from you isn't going to keep me safe that's just bullshit and I don't need _you_ making decisions about _our_ relationship in order to protect _me_!" she finished, not bothering to bite back the harsh tone behind her words.

There was silence for a moment and Clarke spun around to see Lexa staring at her with wide eyes, the slightest grin pulling faintly at the edge of her mouth. "That wasn't what I was going to say, Clarke," she replied, expression teetering between serious and amused. "I was going to suggest that you stay by my side at all times so that I know you are safe. I would not be able to perform my duty otherwise."

"Oh," Clarke breathed, feeling a tinge of red flush her cheeks. "I think I can accept those terms."

"I did not expect you to have a problem with them," Lexa replied though the smile had faded from her lips and her expression returned to its solemn sulking, shoulders sinking with grief.

Clarke held out a hand in front of her, and when the Commander took it, she gently pulled her to her feet. "Come on, Commander," she whispered, running a tender thumb down Lexa's jawline. "Let's wash this day off of us."

Lexa didn't say a word but simply pressed her forehead to Clarke's, closing her eyes and nodding once in agreement before allowing the blonde to gently lead her towards the bedroom at the back of the tent. The tub sat full of water at the center of the cozy room that was partitioned off by flaps from the rest of the tent, but there were no smoldering embers to heat the water in the tray beneath the tub, so Clarke set to work gathering them from one of the lit fire basins. Lexa moved to help, but Clarke waved her off, dumping the last bit of embers into the trough before turning and wrapping her hands around the Commander's waist.

They peeled each other's layers of clothes off in silent admiration, their movements tender and slow and lacking the intense heat that normally came with the action. This was not a time for passion or the desperate and urgent longing that could only be sated by the feeling of bare skin against trembling hands and quaking lips. This was a time for mourning and a time for comfort, drawing strength from being so near and defenseless and vulnerable. Clarke watched as Lexa’s shirt fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked, her milky bare skin almost golden in the candlelight and Clarke couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips.

Lexa’s eyes were watching Clarke’s movements, intent and unwavering, as if examining a treasured masterpiece that had been lost for ages. She didn’t touch and she didn’t inch forward with longing, but simply studied her in wonder, her jaw working silently back and forth as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. Clarke stepped forward into her embrace, not urgently, but softly, running her hands up the length of Lexa’s back with just a whisper of a touch before settling them on her waist and pressing even closer still.

“Come on,” Clarke whispered, feeling the Commander tense beneath her warm breath on her ear. “Let me take care of you,” she said, her hand shifting from Lexa’s waist to close around her wrist.

Clarke tugged her in the direction of the tub, the water now steaming hot and inviting with the way the flickering candles reflected off of it in the low light. Clarke stepped into the tub first, feeling the way the heat engulfed the length of her calf, stinging sharply before adjusting to the smoldering temperature. She brought her other leg in and slowly lowered herself down, still clasping Lexa’s arm as she sunk into the water up to her shoulders. The Commander looked down on her, still watching, her expression impassive though Clarke could see the pain that was clearly written behind those emerald green eyes. She was distant, as if lost in a memory from long ago and only half present in the here and now.

“Here,” Clarke whispered, pulling her down towards the water.

Lexa’s apprehension dissolved the moment her toes hit the surface, and she silently climbed the rest of the way in, sinking down and settling between Clarke’s legs, leaning back against the bare swell of her breasts. The Commander sat stiffly between her thighs, shoulders rigid as Clarke ran soothing hands up and down her arms, gently easing the tension from her body with damp palms and warm fingers. She cupped handfuls of water in her hands, bringing them up and pouring them soundlessly over Lexa’s tangled braids, dampening her hair until it clung to the back of her neck.

The clear bathwater turned a deep shade of inky grey as they washed Aden’s blood from where it had caked itself to the surfaces of their skin and beneath their nails. Clarke wordlessly reached for the bar of soap at the edge of the tub, rolling it into a lather between her palms before massaging it into the skin of Lexa’s shoulders and down her back. She felt the Commander’s stiff muscles slowly begin to melt beneath her touch as she relaxed further against the front of Clarke’s body, letting the blonde calm the hurricane that raged in her heart. Clarke followed the soap with another soothing rinse as she leaned forward and left a trail of soft kisses down Lexa’s spine, tracing the intricate tattoo that ran along it with her lips and admiring the way the candle light reflected off her slick wet skin.

Clarke had seen Lexa naked before, and had seen the tattoo on her back too many times to count, but they had been so wrapped up in their lust that she hadn’t yet thought to ask what the meaning of the black circles and woven lines was. “What is this?” she asked, lending voice to her thoughts as she pushed a few more kisses along the pattern.

“I got it on my ascension day,” Lexa whispered in response, her voice sounding less distant than it had before their bath as if pieces of her were slowly returning to her body. “A circle for every novitiate that died in my conclave.”

“There are only seven circles here,” Clarke noted. “What happened to number eight?” 

Lexa sighed deeply, her hand moving to grip Clarke’s ankle and run soft fingers up the length of her calf. “Remember I told you about the novitiate that fled the conclave?” she asked. “Her name was Luna. She had been forced to kill her brother in the first round, and she was supposed to face me in the second, but she fled before the start,” she explained.

“Why?” Clarke asked, although after seeing the way Lexa had fought against Roan, like death itself lived in her sword, she would have fled if she ever had to fight against her too. “Was she afraid to lose?”

“I don’t know if that was it,” Lexa replied. “As novitiates, we were taught not to fear death. That fighting, and dying, in the conclave was our duty to our people so that a new Heda may be chosen. Luna did not believe that she would be able to make the sacrifices required of the Commander. She didn’t believe that she would be strong enough to uphold her duty to her people before all else. A person cannot be asked to die for what they do not believe in, Clarke,” she finished.

“So she fled?”

Lexa nodded, her damp hair rubbing up and down against Clarke’s chest. “Titus wanted to go after her and hunt her down for her cowardice, but I forbade him.”

“Why?” Clarke asked, confusion evident in her tone.

She felt the slight shrug of Lexa’s shoulders. “Because I did not see cowardice in her actions. She had the wisdom to recognize her own shortcomings and the courage to act on her own beliefs. Sometimes it is much harder to do what is in your heart than what is in your head. I saw only bravery in that,” Lexa explained. “Also, she was Costia’s sister,” she added as if an afterthought.

Clarke nearly jumped at that, taken off guard by the revelation. “Sending an assassin to kill your girlfriend’s sister might have put a hitch in your relationship,” Clarke mused and was surprised to hear Lexa let out a half-hearted giggle before nodding in agreement. “If Luna was Costia’s sister, does that mean she was _Trikru_ as well?”

“Yes, though she now leads another clan” the Commander answered. “She saw first hand the attacks from the Mountain Men on our villages. She, too, knew people who were taken and others who were turned into Reapers. She knew better than anyone that the only way to have stopped them was to join the twelve clans together and take on the Mountain as one. She felt I was better suited for the task.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

“She wasn’t right, either,” Lexa whispered, her voice falling. “I did not fell the Mountain. That was you. And my united Coalition is in shambles.”

Again, Clarke could see just how violent the storm inside of Lexa was brewing, thundering and threatening to break. She was mourning and she was suffering, and she was so clearly torn, and all Clarke could do was comfort her. So that is what she did, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist and pulling her in impossibly closer to her own body. 

“We’re going to fix this,” Clarke assured her, voice low in Lexa’s ear. She didn’t know what it was, but something about Lexa being so defeated and dejected made her want to stand up and carry on. When Lexa crumbled beneath the weight of her burdens and her duties, Clarke wanted to be the one to pick her up and pull her through. It is what Lexa had done for her all along, and in that moment, it was her turn. “We’ll figure out a way to beat Nia, and then you will have the peace you’ve always dreamed of for your people, Commander.”

Lexa was silent for a long while after that, mulling over her thoughts and drawing comfort from the warmth of the bath and her body against Clarke’s. When she spoke again, her voice was trembling. “I am sorry, Clarke,” she whispered. “I do not mean for you to see me like this. I will be better once I’ve had time to…process.”

“Hey,” Clarke cooed. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for showing emotion. You’re not a rock, Lexa. You’re human. And it’s okay for you to be upset or worried or angry, but the one thing I don’t ever want you to be is scared to be yourself in front of me. You don’t always have to be the Commander, not with me. Behind closed doors, you’re Lexa, you’re my Lexa and I l—” Clarke cut herself off, thankful that Lexa’s back was to her so that she could not see the way her eyes widened. “I care about you more than I can say.”

The Commander’s body went slightly stiff in front of her, pausing for a moment before twisting around in Clarke’s lap so that their eyes could meet. “Thank you, Clarke,” she whispered, emerald eyes glowing with a thousand different emotions, the yellow candle flames flashing in them the way the sun rises and sets over the forest. She leaned forward and let their foreheads touch as she brought her hand up to frame Clarke’s face, her touch soft and tender and resonating with reverence.

“Come on,” Clarke whispered, pressing their lips together in a brief but meaningful kiss. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow. I think it’s time we put this one to rest,” she said, accepting Lexa’s hand to pull her to her feet.

In the low light of a dozen candles, bare and vulnerable, something had changed between them that required no voice to acknowledge. The bath had cleansed them of the dirt and blood and memories of that day, but with it went the rest of their walls that had stood like protective barriers around each of their hearts. Lexa had shown Clarke parts of herself that no other person had ever witnessed; the bits of her that were fragile and broken, and the pieces of her that had no direction or words of wisdom. And in those raw moments, they found each other.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke was sprinting through the crowded city streets of Polis, her lungs burning sharply and screaming for air in the whipping autumn wind. She bumped into people as she moved, ricocheting off the masses of bodies as a sense of dread flushed through her. She was looking for someone, but she didn't know whom, and all she had to go on was the overwhelming feeling of urgency that was coursing through her veins and pounding heavy in her ears. Her feet carried her on a will of their own as if they had memorized the direction in which she was headed, but she stuttered as she slammed into a solid body in front of her.

She went to murmur her apologies, but as she glanced up, her heart nearly jumped out of her throat as she choked on her own words. The hooded figure in front of her whirled around to reveal ice blue eyes, weathered features framed in scars and a cold, distant grin that seemed to freeze the world around it. The Ice Queen stared down at her with frozen, calculating eyes that looked at Clarke all too knowingly, as if aware of some fatal secret that only she knew. Her voice was frozen somewhere in the back of her throat and before she could call for help, she watched as Nia took a single step back, dissolving in to the crowd as if adapting her own camouflage. 

Suddenly Clarke remembered where her feet had been carrying her and what exactly she so desperately needed to find. She took off again, shoving her way through the crowds that seemed to be pushing vehemently back against her as if purposely keeping her from her destination. For every three steps forward, it seemed as if she also took two steps back, her progress slow and exhausting while her emotions ran wild and fear coursed through her veins like fire. She knew she had to get to the novitiate training grounds; if she could just get there in time, she might be able to stop the massacre.

In the back of her mind, she knew that this was wrong. Lexa had been with her, surrounded by a swarm of guards as she led their charge through the city, and they had gotten to the training grounds too late. Yet, Clarke couldn't help the sense of urgency and despair that wracked through her body and had her legs trembling beneath her as she ran. She reached the bottom of the hill and began the steep trek towards the top, listening intently for the sounds of battle, yet none came. Gravity itself seemed to pull against her, yanking her down as she struggled to climb those last few steps, bracing herself for the carnage on the other side.

All the foresight in the world could not have prepared her for what she saw at the top, her legs giving out and melting to a puddle beneath her as she sunk to her knees. The bodies of the fallen novitiates littered the ground, separated from their heads as Ontari stood in the center of them, drenched in black blood and grinning widely behind the scars of Ice Nation that riddled her face. She wore an expression of pride, her cold eyes beaming as laughter erupted from her chest. She lifted a single head and tossed it on the ground at Clarke's knees, and Clarke felt the scream erupting in her throat as Aden's lifeless eyes stared up at her.

She screamed and screamed until she felt the threads of the dream begin to unravel as her mind fought back, trying to force the visions away. The last thing she saw was Ontari’s twisted grin full of burning hatred before the nightmare shattered and she shot straight up in bed, terrified shouts still tumbling from her mouth. She felt strong hands on her shoulders, shaking her out of the haze between waking and sleep, and then the rest of her senses flooded back to her. She was drenched in sweat and trembling, vaguely aware of the tears pooling behind her eyes as her gaze locked on to calming forest green. 

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered, framing her face with gentle hands, pushing hair out from in front of her eyes. “It was just a dream. I’m here,” she assured her. “I’m right here.”

Clarke felt her fear beginning to melt away as her heart rate slowed, but she couldn’t help herself when she leaned forward and huddled into Lexa’s solid frame, needing to feel contact and warmth. Her trembling stopped almost immediately, but she was still breathing heavily, the images of her dream flashing through the back of her mind. Lexa’s hands ran soothing tracks up and down her back and Clarke closed her eyes to count the steady beating of the Commander’s heart, realizing it was a little habit she had developed whenever she needed to calm herself. Lexa didn’t pry or try to question what exactly Clarke had been dreaming about, but instead contented herself with simply being there to offer solace and comfort, holding on to Clarke for as long as she needed her to.

They stayed there for a while, wrapped up in each other and unmoving, and Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if Lexa had needed the contact just as much as she had. “Ugh,” Clarke grumbled after what felt like an hour. “Just when I thought the dreams were stopping.”

“There will always be things in this world that give us nightmares, Clarke,” Lexa answered, voice resolute as if stating an unfortunate fact.

Clarke nodded once, her cheek brushing over the cool metal of a buckle, and she pulled her head back to see that Lexa was already dressed for the day. She had on her fur-lined overcoat that strapped in place across her chest and a solid black shirt beneath. The symbol of the Coalition rested between her bright green eyes and her wild brown hair fell down over her right shoulder in one long wave, looking as if she might have tried to tame it. She wore familiar skintight pants that dipped into her knee high boots, and a band of daggers sat in a bracer secured tightly to her thigh. Her features were impassive, her expression lacking the solemn vulnerability it had the night before, and Clarke realized that whatever softness and emotion had been there was now replaced with the stoic strength that could only be the Commander.

“How long have you been up?” she asked, pressing a small kiss to Lexa’s forehead and then one to her lips that the Commander readily returned.

“Sleep did not find me last night. There were far too many things weighing heavily on my mind,” Lexa replied, the dark circles beneath her eyes confirming it.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Clarke questioned, shifting away from Lexa so that she could stretch her arms over her head with a wide yawn.

Lexa shrugged. “You were exhausted, Clarke,” she stated. “No need for you to suffer just because I am.”

“I think I suffered anyway,” Clarke mused, referring to her nightmare. “I had a dream that Ontari killed Aden,” she admitted, her shoulders falling as Lexa’s eyes snapped up at her.

“She still might have…” Lexa whispered, though her expression was empty.

“Hey, don’t say that,” she replied, taking the Commander’s hand in her own. “He’s going to be okay.”

“I was hoping that we could see him before we have to meet with Indra and the Council,” Lexa said. “I would like to check on him.”

Clarke nodded, pulling herself out from beneath the heavy fur duvet so that she could swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll take you to see him, Lex,” she answered as she stood. “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re going to see. He’s going to look pretty beat up.”  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The morning was eerily quiet, neither the Grounder camp nor Arkadia had stirred yet as the sun crept slowly over the horizon, lighting everything in a pale yellow hue. Clarke and Lexa walked side by side in silence, their breath coming out in thick white puffs before floating away in the chill morning breeze. Dew clung to the trees in frozen white droplets and the grass crunched loudly beneath their boots as they trudged along and Clarke could tell that winter would soon be upon them. Even the sun itself seemed to burn with less intensity, lending little warmth to the air as it made its way up over the forest in the east.

The wind kicked up and Clarke felt a chill rush through her, feeling the cold deep in her bones as she shuffled slightly closer to Lexa, hoping to gain comfort from her natural body heat. Lexa seemed unfazed by the weather, simply shrugging out of her thick overcoat and draping it over Clarke's shoulders as they made their way towards the medical bay. Clarke offered her a gentle smile in appreciation as their eyes met and they held each other's gaze in quiet understanding; they would always take care of one another. Clarke pressed her nose to the fabric and breathed deeply the scent of pine trees and smoke and she couldn't tell if it was the forest and smoldering campfires around them, or if that was simply how Lexa would always smell.

They reached the medical bay and stepped inside the warmth of the Ark to the sounds of machines humming and the harsh fluorescent light that was blue in contrast to the soft morning sun. It felt unnatural and wrong and Clarke couldn't help but smirk at how out of place the Commander looked amongst all the foreign technology as she shrugged out of her jacket and handed it back to her. They reached the door to Aden's room and stopped as Lexa breathed in deep, steadying breaths to calm her nerves, her impassive expression doing absolutely nothing to hide the hesitation in the green of her eyes.

"Hey," Clarke whispered, reaching for her hand. "It's going to be okay."

Lexa stared down at her outstretched hand for a moment before taking it in her own, letting a deep sigh out through her nose and giving her a single resolute nod. They pushed through the door together, and Clarke hadn't been aware that she was holding her breath until they entered the room and her screaming lungs reminded her to breathe. Her heart filled with grief and anger at the sight of the boy, so badly beaten and bruised that it looked as if he could have fallen from the top of the Polis tower. Tears pulled at her eyes, but she held them back, understanding that in that moment she needed to be the strength and reason that Lexa was depending on.

Aden laid motionless in the bed, his head bandaged heavily and still leaking pinkish fluid through the white cloth while the heart rate monitors beeped steadily with the sound of his pulse. There were deep black and purple bruises beneath his closed eyes and his skin was ghastly pale under the bright fluorescent light. His chest was bare except for the bandages that wrapped tightly over his left shoulder and across his ribs disappearing beneath his arm. Clarke knew that the wound in his shoulder and back would require constant attention and cleaning to avoid infection of the raw and exposed skin she had been forced to burn shut. His lower half was covered in a blanket, but she could see the thick outline of a plaster cast around his broken ankle, and she knew that, too, would take weeks to heal.

Abby sat at Aden's bedside, idly scrolling something in a file and glancing up in surprise when they entered the room. Her brown hair was pulled back off her face and there were bags under her eyes, a clear sign that she hadn't slept all night, and Clarke felt a wave of affection and gratitude sweep through her. Their relationship had been strained for a long time, but with everything her mother had done recently, it was clear that she was making an effort to repair what was broken between them. The doctor stood as they got closer, tucking her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat and taking a step to the side to give them room.

Clarke felt the pressure of Lexa's hand in hers increase by ten as the Commander clutched her fingers tightly for support. "He looks so fragile," she whispered, her voice so soft it seemed as if she was afraid to wake him.

"He's not," Abby supplied, speaking from behind them as Lexa reached the side of Aden's bed and gazed down on him. "He's a fighter."

"Yes, he is," Lexa replied absentmindedly and Clarke watched as she slowly reached her hand out, almost as if she wanted to touch his cheek, but instead let it fall back to her side. "What are all of these wires?" she asked, motioning to the beeping monitors and screens above the bed.

"We're monitoring his heart rate and brain activity," Clarke answered, pointing to the sharp lines that jumped and dipped on the screen nearest them. "See this line here? That means he's dreaming."

Lexa stared at it for a moment, eyes wide in wonder as if beholding nothing short of a miracle. "When will he wake up?" she questioned, though her tone was small, almost like she was afraid to know the answer.

Abby moved closer, standing across from them now as she eyed Lexa curiously and Clarke could tell that she was not accustomed to seeing the Commander this vulnerable. After a moment, the doctor gave a slight nod to herself, as if in approval, before her own expression softened. "It's hard to say," Abby replied softly. "Right now we have him under sedation and heavy pain medication so that he doesn't have to feel the extent of his injuries. His body needs time to heal, but the fact that his brain activity is so strong is a really good sign."

Lexa glanced at Clarke for confirmation before accepting her single nod. "So he will recover?" she asked, and Clarke couldn't help but feel the way her heart clenched at the Commander trying to make sense of all the medical business far beyond her understanding. If the Ark had never come down and Aden had suffered those same injuries without access to the medicine and technology that _Skaikru_ brought with them, he surely would have died.

The doctor let a small smile pull up the corner of her mouth. "He's been stable all night and his vitals are strong. I think it's safe to say that Clarke got him here in time. It'll be a long road, but I think he is going to be fine."

Clarke watched as the life seemed to return to Lexa's body and her tense shoulders melted with relief, her eyes instantly glowing a shade brighter. The last two days had been torture for them both, but Clarke couldn’t even begin to imagine the storm that was raging within the Commander’s heart, both mixed with grief and the drive to act. She had seen the soft sides of Lexa, raw and vulnerable and so broken, but now she could see the Commander returning to herself, emanating strength and power and commanding the room with a single glance or the wave of a hand. She gave Clarke’s hand one last squeeze before she squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, striding over to the doctor and sticking out her hand in offering.

“You have done me a great service, Abby Griffin,” she said, clasping the doctor’s wrist in a show of respect. “You have my gratitude. I do not know how I can repay you.”

“From what Clarke has told me, you’re the one who saved her life,” Abby answered, still holding tightly to Lexa’s hand. “I think this makes us even. Just promise me you’ll keep my daughter safe.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat from the other side of the room interrupted the exchange, and they all turned towards the source of it to see Raven lingering in the doorway. She wore blue jeans and a white and grey baseball tee beneath a heavy navy jacket that was unzipped and hanging down past her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and there was a smudge of grease on her cheek and Clarke wondered if she’d been working through the night. Her leg was fastened securely in the makeshift metal brace she had built and her brown eyes flicked nervously from Clarke to Lexa before settling safely on Abby.

“Hey doc,” she said. “Sorry if I’m interrupting. My leg is giving me some trouble today, and I was wondering if your offer for those pain meds was still on the table.”

“Raven,” Abby smiled fondly. “Take a seat on the exam table and we’ll see what we can do,” she said as she released Lexa’s grip and strolled quickly from the room, ever the attentive doctor.

Raven nodded firmly, her gaze once again darting to Lexa and Clarke before she limped over to the table at the other side of the room, her expression faltering as she winced with the pain the movement caused. Her eyes fell upon the body of the broken boy in the bed and Clarke thought she could read pity in the other girl’s expression. Lexa stared at her, shifting her body protectively to shield as much of Aden from view as possible, though the action was not hostile, but rather cautionary.

“Clarke,” Raven said, before looking again towards Lexa. “Commander, I heard you were here. A lot of people are wondering what’s going on.”

Lexa was silent for a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. “Much will be discussed in the council meeting,” she answered vaguely. “But we will be requiring your assistance, so I hope you are able to attend,” she added, her tone returning to its confident lilt that desired to be heard and obeyed.

“I’ll be there,” Raven replied, offering a slight smile before glancing at Aden’s still body once more. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Lexa nodded to the other girl as Abby returned carrying what looked like a long syringe filled with some sort of clear fluid.

“Clarke?” Raven called. “I was wondering if you and I could talk.”

Clarke had been hoping for the chance to talk to Raven and clear the air between the two of them, feeling guilty about their last meeting in Arkadia. Over the months they’d been on the Ground together, they had grown close, surviving and making impossible decisions together and brought closer still by their love and eventual anger towards Finn. Raven had always had Clarke’s back, though never hesitated to call her out on the decisions she thought was wrong, and she was the one person that Clarke could accept that from. She trusted her, respected her, cared for her, and considered her a close friend, and being at odds with her was the last thing she wanted, especially in the face of unspeakable danger that she knew was headed their way.

“Sure, Ray,” Clarke answered. She looked towards Lexa, searching her eyes to make sure that she would be content for a while without her, and found the strength and wisdom she had been missing from the Commander the night before. 

“I’ll be fine, Clarke,” Lexa spoke, as if reading her mind. She always seemed to know what Clarke was thinking and she wondered if she was that transparent or if Lexa just knew her and understood her that well.

Clarke nodded, reaching out to take Lexa’s hand in hers and giving it one more gentle squeeze before she stepped back and pulled closed the curtains around Aden’s bed, allowing the Commander some privacy. She walked over to where Raven sat on the exam table, watching as Abby removed her brace and was gently moving her leg in different directions. Raven’s brow was furrowed as if she was trying to concentrate on not showing the pain in her deep brown eyes, but the beaded sweat on her forehead and paling of her tanned skin was enough to give away the torment that she was feeling. A bullet had been lodged in her spine and she’d undergone surgery to remove it without anesthetic, and then she’d been nearly blown up in the dam at Mount Weather; there was no way that she wasn’t feeling the effects of the trauma on her body.

“Look doc,” Raven grunted. “I don’t need the full workup. Just give me the shot and I’ll be on my way to bigger and better things.”

Abby laughed and shot her a sideways glance before continuing her examination. “Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten,” she instructed.

“Seven,” the girl answered quickly. “But definitely a ten when I look at Clarke.”

“Oh, you’re calling me a ten, Reyes? That’s so sweet,” Clarke quipped, falling back into their familiar witty banter. She had missed that.

“You wish, Griffin,” Raven shot back. “Ow!” she exclaimed as Abby pushed the needle of her syringe into the meaty flesh above Raven’s hip, expelling the clear liquid into her body.

The doctor smiled. “You won’t be saying that in five minutes.”

“Thanks, Abby,” Raven said, grabbing her brace and clipping it back into place firmly around her injured leg before hopping down from the table.

“You’ll come see me if the pain worsens?” Abby asked, though it was clear that she didn’t actually expect the girl to listen. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say doc,” Raven waved her off, acting as if her leg hardly bothered her. “Come on, Clarke, let’s find somewhere to talk,” she said, motioning towards the door.

Clarke followed her from the room, falling in to stride beside the other girl and maintaining a slower pace as Raven limped along in pain. They walked in silence for a while, simply wandering the halls without aim and nodding to the members of _Skaikru_ that were emerging from their rooms for breakfast. The Ark was still eerily quiet in the early morning, and the sounds of humming lights and whirring doors echoed sharply off the long metal walls. Clarke had forgotten how uneasy the halls of Arkadia had made her feel in comparison to the natural silence of the Polis tower, high above the city and away from any noise. It was unsettling.

“So,” Raven said, finally putting an end to the growing silence. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted the last time you were here. I was a dick.”

“Yeah, a big one,” Clarke agreed, shooting her a small smile.

“Okay, okay, let’s not get carried away here,” Raven replied, giving her a gentle elbow nudge. “You just disappeared after Mount Weather, Clarke,” she continued. “And then you showed up here with Lexa. I was angry.”

Clarke looked up and saw Indra approaching, nodding to her once and motioning in the direction they’d come knowing that the Grounder warrior was looking for her Commander and watching as she passed swiftly by. “I know you were angry,” she said to Raven. “And I know that it must have been a bit of a shock to see me with Lexa.”

“A bit?” Raven questioned, her eyebrows arching. “She strapped me to a pole and tortured me, ordered Finn’s execution, and then left us to die fighting their enemy.”

Clarke wanted to defend Lexa’s actions, but understood that not everyone would view them the same way she did. “She didn’t make those decisions lightly,” she said instead.

“I know,” the other girl replied. “I know that she thought I was trying to kill her. I know that she was able to save her people without bloodshed by sacrificing ours. I know that Finn was responsible for the actions that led to his death. I just took it out on you, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to trust her again yet.”

“It took me a long time to trust her again too,” Clarke replied, thinking about the days she’d spent in the forest with Lexa and all the nights she’d spent in her arms before she actually let herself feel again. “But she does want to protect our people, Ray. Despite all her actions and the things her position has forced her to do, she’s a good person.”

Raven nodded slowly, as if accepting the words but with a little hesitation. “It was just a lot to handle after you left. We needed you here.”

They rounded a corner and stepped out of the way as a group of guards passed by, though Clarke didn’t recognize any of them and figured they must have been from Farm Station. “I know I shouldn’t have left the way I did. You and Bellamy deserved an explanation. I was just broken Ray,” Clarke said, her voice soft and cracking at the memory of those crushing feelings that had swirled inside her heart and threatened to tear her into darkness. “I didn’t know how to live with myself and the things that I had done, so I ran away from them instead.”

“Right into the arms of the Commander,” Raven mused, shooting her a quick wink.

“Shut up,” Clarke laughed, feeling a warm blush fill her cheeks.

“How is _that_ going?”

Clarke sighed, searching for a place to start. “A lot has happened,” she said, mind reeling with everything that had occurred over the previous few weeks. “We’re in more danger than I can say Raven, but even then, Lexa makes me feel safe. She makes me feel whole and like there is more to this life than just surviving. I just…I love her,” she admitted, again testing those three words on her tongue that she hadn’t had the courage yet to say to the woman she felt them for.

“Woah, Griff,” Raven replied. “That’s some heavy shit.”

“I know,” Clarke chuckled lightly though she felt the weight of her words bearing down on her shoulders, begging to be released. “What about you and Bellamy?”

“He’s a stubborn asshole,” the other girl quipped. “But he’s my stubborn asshole, and yeah, I guess I love him too. I mean, he’s alright,” she tried to play it off, attempting to lighten the gravity of the situation.

“I’m happy for you, Raven,” Clarke said, sincerely.

They turned another corner and found themselves in the hallway that led back to the medical bay. “I’m happy for you too, Clarke,” Raven replied. “I mean that. And I’m glad that we had this talk.”

Clarke smiled, swinging her arm around the other girl’s shoulder to offer her a sideways hug. “Me too,” she answered, meaning it from the deepest parts of her heart.

“So, who’s the kid in medbay?” she asked. “And what the hell happened to him?”

“His name is Aden,” Clarke answered, the warm moment shattered by the thought of Aden’s damaged body. “He’s one of Lexa’s novitiates.”

“A noviwhat?” 

“Novitiate. One of the people she was training to become Commander in her stead one day. Actually, speaking of that, I had a question about something that I think you might know the answer to,” Clarke said.

Raven arched an eyebrow. “Might? Please, we both know that I know the answer to everything.”

“Okay, smartass,” Clarke laughed. “I was wondering what a microchip might be doing implanted in the base of someone’s skull? And I think this person can see the memories of the people who carried the chip before…” she let her voice trail off. 

“Lexa has a microchip in her head? That’s a bit weird for a Grounder, don’t you think?” Raven asked, astutely filling in the words unsaid.

“It’s something they do when a new Commander is chosen. They take this chip, they call it the Flame, and pass it from Commander to Commander. They believe that it carries the spirit of the ones that came before them, but I think that it just holds their memories. Like a recording,” Clarke explained.

“Could be,” Raven agreed with a nod. “Could be some sort of AI.”

Clarke’s eyes shot up at that, staring wide-eyed at the other girl. “An Artificial Intelligence?” she asked. “Like Lexa’s thoughts aren’t her own?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Griffin, not that sort of AI,” Raven cut her off, seeing the look of alarm on her face. “An AI implanted at the base of the skull must have some sort of cerebral interface. It probably monitors brainwaves and emotions, and records memories. When they pass it on to the next person, that person has some sort of access to those memories,” the girl explained, ever the endless encyclopedia of useful tech knowledge. “The girl you love is the girl you love. That is all Lexa.”

Clarke let a faint smile pull at her lips again, excited by the way those words sounded, but her grin fell as she pushed open the door to the medical bay. Most of the members of the _Skaikru_ council stood staring at them expectantly, there eyes filled with question and doubt. Indra was nowhere to be seen, but another Grounder stood talking quietly to the Commander beside Aden’s bed; someone Clarke had not yet expected to see. Titus and Lexa both glanced up as she entered, holding her gaze as a storm of nerves balled itself in her stomach.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They huddled around the council room table in the same manner they had the last time they were in Arkadia, except this time their expressions were somber and apprehensive rather than hopeful or optimistic. Clarke stood beside Lexa at the head of the table, waiting for the rest of the _Skaikru_ leadership to arrive so they could begin what would be their first war council as members of the Coalition. Abby, Kane and Pike hovered directly across from them, staring expectantly and shifting beneath the weight of their impatient nerves. Octavia and Lincoln stood beside a fidgeting Raven at the other side of the table, both clad in heavy Grounder furs and looking as if they had been prepared to travel, but wearing identical expressions of displeasure.

Titus had arrived early and took his place at Lexa's other side. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were wind-burnt, tinged red beneath heavy shadows from lack of sleep. Grey stubble dotted his normally clean-shaven chin and his brown eyes were gazing straight ahead, distant and lost in thought. He wore a scowl on his face, but one of disdain and defeat rather than anger and his shoulders sagged as if he was ready to collapse on the spot. He wore his grey Flamekeeper robes, but Clarke noticed the distinct red and black bloodstains that spotted it in areas, and it was clear that Titus had not changed his robes since dealing with the death and chaos at the novitiate training ground.

Lexa, on the other hand, had regained the composure she had been lacking the night before, and now assumed her regal stance, shoulders high and hands clasped behind her back. Her face was as impassive as ever, all traces of vulnerability swept beneath the stoic mask that was the Commander of the Coalition. Her presence was imposing as her emerald green eyes shifted from person to person, chin high and spine straight. She looked like the leader that they needed her to be, and Clarke felt the familiar rush of warmth sweep through her stomach and pool between her legs at seeing the Commander in all her strength and glory. Now it was time for business.

Bellamy was the last person to enter the room, accompanied by a dark-skinned older man, brown eyes kind beneath curly black hair. They shifted through the door and let it shut behind them before moving to stand with the rest of the group at the table. Bellamy's shoulders were tense and his jaw was working back and forth behind clenched teeth, and Clarke could tell that he was waging some sort of internal battle. He seemed to calm when Raven slid her hand into his before he spared a glance over at Clarke and gave her a single nod.

"Commander," Abby spoke, breaking the heavy silence. "This is Sinclair, our chief engineer," she explained, introducing the new man.

Lexa eyed him cautiously before accepting him with a nod. "Clarke spoke to me about you. Welcome," she said.

The older man offered her a slight smile before silence fell over the group of them, eyes bouncing around from one person to the next as anticipation built steadily in the air. It was clear by their presence here that something had gone wrong, though Clarke knew her people had returned to Arkadia after the bomb in Mount Weather and nobody, except maybe Octavia and Lincoln, had a clue what was going on. Lexa looked ahead stoically, the slight tick of her jaw indicating to Clarke that she was choosing her words carefully.

"I must first offer my condolences for those you lost in Mount Weather," she began, green eyes falling directly on Charles Pike. "The dead must be remembered."

The hardened man stared back at her, gaze unwavering as he leaned forward and placed both palms flat on the table. He wore a tight fitting long-sleeved shirt, his solid muscles visible beneath the navy blue fabric. "The dead are gone," he replied. "But I need to know what is being done to avenge them. What justice has been served?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"The Ice Queen was apprehended soon after the attack on _Skaikru_ ," Titus answered, exhaustion evident in his tone. "She confessed to the destruction of Mount Weather and was put to trial for treason."

"So she's dead?" Raven asked, knowing exactly how harsh the Grounder ways of dealing with traitors were.

Clarke cleared her throat, drawing the attention to herself. "Not exactly," she replied.

"What do you mean 'not exactly', Clarke?" Bellamy asked, anger glinting in the brown of his eyes.

"Our law permits any clan leader to challenge me for the seat of Commander," Lexa interjected. "Nia challenged me, and with my leadership already in question, I had no choice but to accept."

"What does this challenge entail?" Kane questioned, glancing from Clarke to Lexa and then to Titus.

"Single combat," Lexa replied, holding his gaze steadily. "To the death. Except Nia named her son, Roan, as her champion, and I was forced to fight him in her stead. I killed Roan and defeated her challenge, and Nia was again sentenced to death."

"So, what happened?" Octavia asked.

Clarke opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by Titus who placed a light hand on her shoulder. "The Ice Queen escaped, aided by members of our own council," he said, shoulders falling even further. "Ice Nation war parties raided the Polis tower and the novitiate grounds, creating enough chaos for Nia to escape into the crowds, but they didn't get into the city without help," he explained. “They snuck in under the guise of another clan banner, and we paid the price for it dearly…” his voice fell away and Clarke could see that he was struggling to maintain control of his emotions.

If the revelation took Lexa by surprise, she did not show it in her impassive expression. "There is a clear divide in the clans of the Coalition and their leadership, and _Azgeda_ does not intend to resolve this altercation by peaceful means," she said. “The destruction of Mount Weather was a clear act of war, and the massacre of my novitiates was retaliation for the death of Nia’s son.”

"War is upon us," Titus confirmed with a solemn nod. "The Ice Queen and the clans that support her are gathering their armies as we speak."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Abby asked behind gritted teeth and a terrified expression, her skin a ghostly shade of white.

Lexa met her gaze stoically. "War has always been the way of our people. We must meet it with rational heads and strong hearts. Then we will have our peace."

"Arkadia is in danger," Clarke supplied, lending words to the thoughts that were swirling in each person's mind. "Nia will want to wipe us out first before we can use our technology against her. She thinks she crippled us by destroying the supplies in Mount Weather."

"If that bitch thinks she can take us without a fight, she's dead wrong," Raven growled, backed by mutters of agreement from Bellamy and Pike.

"It's not that simple," Lincoln said, speaking for the first time. His warm eyes looked tired beneath a worried expression, but his tone was resolute. "The Ice Nation army numbers in the thousands, and they will have the armies of the clans that stand with them to bolster their numbers."

"Surely some clans are still loyal to you, Commander?" Pike asked, shifting back on his heals and crossing his arms.

Lexa didn't respond, but instead looked to Titus for the answer. He had been the one to stay behind in Polis and measure the chaos and dissent in her stead. " _Trikru_ , the Valley People, and _Trishana_ clan still stand with us," the grave man stated. "Their armies are gathering to meet us here. Their generals will seek council when they arrive.”

"That's it?" Bellamy spat. "Three clans out of twelve?"

Titus nodded solemnly. " _Sankru_ , the Plains Riders, the Delphi clan and the Rock People stand with Nia. The remaining four clans remain neutral to the dispute. They will not send their warriors to die for a fight that is not their own."

"What about Luna and _Floukru_?" Lincoln asked, and Clarke's ears instantly picked out the name of the woman she and Lexa had discussed the night before; the novitiate that fled the conclave.

"The Boat People do not believe in war, Lincoln," Lexa said, though her voice was gentle, as if avoiding some tender subject. "You know this."

The young warrior nodded once but did not speak, and Clarke and Octavia shared confused glances, question glowing brightly in the other girl's green eyes. Strained silence fell over the room as the weight of the information settled over them, heavy and daunting and almost too much to bear. An army was coming for them; one that far outnumbered them and sought to destroy everything that they had built since their arrival on the ground. They were staring annihilation in the face and were absolutely helpless to stop it. One thing was certain: Clarke would not let Nia threaten her people without a fight.

"We need a plan," Clarke said. "They have the numbers, but we have the technology. We have to set up defenses and come up with ways to fight back."

Lexa nodded her agreement. "I've already dispatched Indra and a scouting party to monitor and track the movements of the Ice Nation army. They will report back and provide an estimate of the numbers we are facing and their whereabouts."

"Woah, hold on," Abby said, throwing both hands in the air in protest. "Is there no other way?" Abby asked. "Are we sure there is no way to avoid this war?"

"Mom," Clarke spoke, struggling to hide the irritation in her tone. "Lexa has done all that she could to stop it. She saved Farm Station from _Azgeda_ so that Nia could not use their deaths to turn _Skaikru_ against the Coalition, she made us the thirteenth clan in hopes that Ice Nation would not attack the Coalition directly, and she risked her life to fight against Roan to defend us. As long as Nia is alive, she will try to start a war, and she will not see reason."

"What if Nia wasn't alive?" Kane asked. "We could send a sniper."

Lincoln scoffed, failing to choke back his laughter. "We wouldn't even be able to get within a mile of her," he said.

"Well, then what do we do?" Abby questioned, not attempting to mask the concern from her voice.

"There is only one thing to do," Clarke replied. "We fight."

Instantly the room erupted into chaos, voices rising to be heard over each other as arguments rang out. Bellamy shouted at Lincoln who spewed back at him in _Trigedasleng_ , muttering what Clarke was sure could be insults. Pike and Marcus fumed back and forth to each other, one advocating for peaceful means while the other was suggesting they begin weapons training immediately. Raven and Sinclair talked excitedly amongst one another, their eyes lighting up as they discussed various different explosives and trip wire mechanisms. Octavia stared at Clarke expectantly but did not speak while Abby's eyes wandered the room as if lost in a daze.

Titus and Lexa stood impassively, letting the clatter go on for a minute or so before putting a stop to it. "Silence!" Lexa shouted, taking complete command of the room. "I know that you are scared for your people," she said calmly once the voices had quieted. "But Clarke is right. We have no choice but to fight. We may be outnumbered, but we are not without our own strengths. We must play to those now," she continued, her endless wisdom a stark contrast to her youth.

The Flamekeeper sighed heavily before looking up from the spot his eyes had been fixated on on the table. “The _Trikru_ and _Trishana_ warriors possess skills the Ice Nation warriors do not. They were raised in the forests and know how to use the trees to their advantage, we must use this,” he suggested. 

Clarke remembered the way the _Trikru_ warriors had attacked them from above when they first arrived on the ground, hurling spears and arrow from the treetops or pouncing down on bungee cords before zinging back into the branches above. They hadn’t even realized they were being attacked until half of their people were already dead. “I think that’s a good idea, Titus,” she replied, earning his nod of approval.

“The Valley People are the second largest clan, and they are skilled warriors on horseback,” Lexa added. “They will be useful in holding the field outside of Arkadia.”

“What about us, guys?” Clarke asked the council. “Give me some ideas. What can we do?”

Pike was the first to speak, jumping in as if he had been waiting. “I think it would be wise to extend the wall around Arkadia, giving us a little more room behind so that we can help house some of our ally army,” he suggested. “I also think we could benefit from putting a platform around the top, or even just a few more guard towers, so that our shooters have elevation,” he finished and Clarke was happy to see that someone was taking an interest in the well-being of the Grounder army that was gathering to protect them rather than just using them as a human meat shield.

“Agreed,” Bellamy said. “We will need extra scrap metal for the build, but I think we can salvage that between the drop ship and what’s left of Mount Weather. I also want to start training a sharp-shooter team. We need people at the top of the wall that are going to make their shots count.”

“We have to be careful that our people aren’t aiming for the wrong Grounders,” Octavia said, voicing her concern. Clarke had also been worried that bullets flying might cause some friendly-fire casualties.

“We will only give guns to people who know how to use them,” Kane assured her. “Our people aren’t warriors, we can’t expect them all to fight, but they can help with building and gathering supplies.”

Abby had not yet contributed to the plan, and she sat back on her heals, working her jaw back and forth in thought before glancing up to meet Clarke’s eyes. “I suppose we can work on extending the medical bay. Perhaps we can take over this hallway and turn it into a medical wing by bringing in beds to some of the other rooms. We will need plenty of space to house the wounded and Jackson and I can work with the Grounder healers to set up some sort of triage for incoming injuries.”

When the room fell quiet again, all eyes looked towards Lexa. “These are good plans,” the Commander said. “I will have my people aid you in whatever way they can.”

"If I may," Sinclair interjected for the first time, clearing his throat and waiting for the Commander's nod before continuing. "I have more to add to our defenses. We have several rovers that we can reinforce and mount with soldiers and guns, and they can move quickly through any battlefield. We can half-load the ammunition we have to create twice the amount of bullets, and we have enough rocket fuel left from the Ark to create several high powered explosives," he explained, pulling a pencil from behind his ear and jotting down notes in a book he produced from his pocket.

“It’s a bummer that Ice Nation blew up Mount Weather,” Raven muttered, speaking to herself more than anyone but looking around at the group when she realized that they had heard her. “I could have done some serious damage with their supplies of oil and gasoline. Even now, our rovers won’t have much to run on, so we will have to use them wisely.”

“Oil?” Lincoln asked, his head shooting up and Clarke could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “I know where we can get oil.”

“Lincoln…” Lexa cautioned.

“Forgive me Heda,” he said. “But how do we know she will not help us if we do not ask?”

“Because she is a coward and a traitor!” Titus spat as if the words tasted like acid in his mouth, his face flushing red with anger.

Lexa held up her hand, silencing them both before an argument could break out. “Raven,” she said. “How much oil do you require?”

“As much as I can get my hands on, Commander,” the mechanic answered. “If you haven’t noticed yet, I like blowing shit up. It’s sort of my thing.”

Lexa stared at her impassively, offering little reaction behind her smoldering green gaze. “Very well,” she sighed after a moment.

“Heda,” Titus interjected once more. “This is a mistake! She cannot be trusted!”

“She would not betray us!” Lincoln shouted back, nostrils flaring as he attempted to control his rage, as if the insult was an affront to his very existence.

“Enough!” Lexa snapped, quieting them once more. “If she can at least give us the supplies that we require, it will be worth the trip. Lincoln, do you remember the way?” she asked, tone soft once more.

“Yes, Commander,” he replied.

Lexa nodded once, features solemn. “Then we will leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m sorry but who the hell are you guys talking about?” Octavia asked, voice laced with frustration, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“Luna,” Titus, Lincoln and Lexa replied in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sooooo yes, Luna will be making her appearance in the next chapter and she will play a pretty big role going forward which should be fun to explore. Also, as you can see, we're sort of being set up for a Battle of Hogwarts type situation, but more like the Battle of Arkadia, so that will be an adventure. As I mentioned before, I've outlined the rest of the chapters and I honestly cannot wait to write them and see the reactions because it is going to be the epic story we should have gotten. I know this chapter was rather conversation heavy and not that exciting, but necessary evils in setting up for the rest of the story. See you next week!
> 
> -Alex


	13. Part Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up my gays! Okay, so listen. This is by far the longest chapter yet, and I know I'm posting hella early on this, but I seriously couldn't wait. I was just too fucking excited. So, I'm running on about two hours of sleep these past few days, but here we are. This chapter is fucking massive, in more ways than one and you really just need to read it. It's got everything you could want all bundled in to one wonderful package. Okay, but really, when you're reading this I want you to ignore any back story that the show may have given Luna's people (I honestly can't remember if they did and that shit show was full of so many plot holes that I could really give zero fucks). I've created my own sort of back story for them as to why they're way out in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, so go with it. See you at the end.
> 
> -Alex

There was an overwhelming sense or urgency flooding through Arkadia as work on the proposed changes began almost immediately following the council meeting. They set off early the next morning before the sun had even considered rising, the frosty morning temperatures biting sharply at their cheeks as they mounted their horses. A discussion as to whether Clarke would accompany Lexa had not even occurred, both girls knowing without words that they would not leave each other’s side. However, with both of them departing quickly in search of much needed resources, and Indra away on a scouting mission, Lexa had no choice but to force Titus to stay behind and remain in control of the Grounder army and the arriving forces of other clans. The Flamekeeper had protested at first, insisting to join them in case he needed to perform his duties, however he resigned to defeat after Lexa had commanded him to take charge in her stead. Clarke knew that behind her strong words, Lexa just wanted a familiar face to be present in case Aden woke up while she was gone.

Lincoln, apparently the only person with the knowledge of Luna’s exact whereabouts and how to get there, had agreed to lead them on their journey. Of course Octavia refused to stay behind while Lincoln put himself in danger, so she had decidedly joined their party without resistance from Clarke or Lexa. They set out as the sky turned a blotchy shade of light blue, their pace urgent as a herd of the Commander’s guard accompanied them, surrounding them protectively as was their sworn duty. The forest was dark and still around them, but Clarke couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that with the threat of war looming over them, they could be attacked at any moment.

She rode at the center of the group, Lexa on her right, and Octavia on her left. Lexa looked regal as ever, strapped into her shoulder armor with her red cape flowing elegantly down the flanks of her white horse, looking eerily like blood against snow. She wore a thick black overcoat, lined with fur to protect her from the harsh temperatures, though she now wore a hood in order to keep her head and face warm. From what Clarke could see of her hidden features, her emerald green eyes were framed in the signature black war paint, streaking down her cheeks in sharp lines. She rode with purpose, maintaining a quick pace as the sun slowly crept over the trees in front of them, lighting the world in a yellow glow that brought little warmth to their frozen fingers.

Octavia sat on Clarke’s other side, clad in Grounder attire and seemingly unbothered by the cold. Her brown hair was braided in strands down her back, windswept and tangled as it bounced up and down with the motion of her horse’s gait. Her features were stony and emotionless, reminding Clarke of the Commander, though she knew that Octavia was prone to giving in to her high-strung emotions whereas Lexa was far more controlled and reserved. Her eyes, a shade of green all their own, were focused on Lincoln’s back as he rode at the front of their war party, leading them pointedly through the dense forest. 

Clarke was undeterred by the weight of her pistol pressing into her side, having strapped it on before their departure from Arkadia and resolving to use it should the need arise. Lexa carried two swords on her back, crisscrossed in their scabbards, and Clarke took note of the string of daggers around her thigh and the lone dagger tucked into a pouch in the Commander’s boot. Octavia carried swords of her own, held tightly against her waist, and Clarke prayed that they were just precautionary measures, but was comforted by the fact that the guards around her were armed to the teeth as well.

There was little conversation amongst them as nerves settled heavily over the group and eyes shifted alertly to the trees around them, scanning diligently for danger. They were making steady progress despite the bitter cold, only stopping to rest on occasion and allow their horses a drink before pressing on. Lincoln had informed them that it would be a two day ride to the coast where they would find Luna and the rest of the boat people, and the prospect of being out in the open for so long was unsettling. She couldn’t help her mind from wandering to the thoughts of eyes peeking out at them from the depths of their trees, tracking their movements and waiting for the opportune moment to leap out and ambush them.

However, no attack came, and it was late afternoon by the time Octavia broke the silence as they rode in unison, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. “Commander?” she called, speaking around Clarke so that Lexa could hear her over the pounding of their horses’ hooves. “May I ask you a question?”

Lexa’s eyes remained focused on their surroundings, but Clarke saw a subtle smile at the corner of her mouth. “Something tells me that you would ask regardless of my answer, Octavia,” she replied.

Octavia considered this for a moment, shrugging her shoulders in agreement. “You’re probably right. So, what is the deal between Lincoln and Luna?” she asked. “Who is she?”

The Commander’s shoulders went slightly more rigid, her jaw working back and forth as she contemplated her reply. “They have…history,” Lexa answered carefully. “We all do.”

“What sort of history?” the other girl questioned, clearly wondering if there was anything romantic between Lincoln and the mystery girl in the past.

“We grew up together,” Lexa answered. “We were all from the same village. After Luna fled from the conclave, Lincoln ventured to see her a few times.”

“The conclave? Why would she flee?”

Lexa breathed a visible sigh, as if tired of telling the same story over and over again. “She was not suited to lead our people,” she replied, simply. 

Octavia was silent for a moment, trying to piece together a puzzle in her head that she would never solve without all the information. “Lincoln told me about growing up with you, but he never mentioned Luna,” she stated. “I wonder why.”

“Perhaps that is a conversation that you should have with him, Octavia?” Lexa questioned, though her tone was not irritated. She was simply showing that it was not her place to speak about.

“Yeah,” Octavia huffed, deflated. “You’re right.”

Clarke was about to speak, to offer some sort of comfort, but it was the Commander who read the emotions in Octavia’s face and took pity. “There may be history between them, Octavia,” she began. “But the history is in the past and it is far wiser to live in the present. Lincoln knows that.”

Without too much sentiment, Clarke could tell that Lexa was attempting to console her friend. The words she’d not said rang loudly in the air around them; that Lincoln’s feelings for Luna, whatever they may have been, were a thing of the past, and that he was undoubtedly in love with Octavia. Still, Clarke felt a rush of warmth and appreciation towards the Commander, reveling in the feeling that Lexa never ceased to surprise her. Despite her hardened expression and steely exterior, Lexa understood the needs of others, and that is what made her an exceptional leader capable of inspiring loyalty and love from her people with the exemption of the power hungry political leaders.

The words, however veiled they were, seemed to relax Octavia, and Clarke watched as a faint smile pulled up at her cheeks. “Thank you, Commander,” she replied, turning her gaze forward and letting quiet settle over them once more.

Clarke reached out and gave Lexa’s thigh a gentle squeeze, showing her appreciation and feeling a wave of butterflies take flight in her stomach as Lexa’s hand closed around hers and returned a gentle burst of pressure before returning to the reins of her steed. They rode in easy silence, listening to the sounds of their horses grunting and the birds flitting quickly from tree to tree, taking comfort from being near to each other and living in the present. Whatever had happened in the past was long gone, and Clarke decided in that moment that she would live each and every day with Lexa, happy to be alive and sharing precious time with the woman that she undoubtedly and irrevocably loved.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They made camp for the night with their backs against a steep cliff, cutting off the possibility of being ambushed. Just before the sun had set, Clarke glanced out over the horizon and could barely make out the Polis flame far into the distance, flickering like a star a million light-years away. It felt as if seeing the city again, being home, was a million light-years away as well, and she was aware of the long and dangerous road they had ahead of them. She fell asleep with those uneasy thoughts in her head, curling in to Lexa’s side and clinging to the Commander as if their proximity would somehow ensure both their safety in the coming weeks. 

They set out early in the morning, once again waking far before the sun as the thick layers of frost crunched heavily beneath the hooves of their horses. The closer they got to the coast, the more humid the air became, hanging dense and moist until it was coming down in thick droplets, soaking them to the bone. The longer they rode on, the more sparse the forest grew, allowing space between the towering pines that granted them a slightly faster pace. The urgency of their trip was not lost amongst the silence of the group, each of them ever aware that they needed to return to Arkadia as quickly as possible, with or without the supplies. 

Clarke thought that her muscles would have grown used to being in the saddle in the months that had passed since they first made contact with the Grounders, but the way her legs and ass were screaming at that moment said otherwise. Her entire body was sore, thighs trembling and center throbbing in the least pleasant way imaginable as they made their way along a tree lined path. As they got closer to their destination, the air began to smell of salt mixed with pine and sea, and she breathed deeply, wanting to soak in the memory of the scent. However, her breath hitched in her throat as the incline beneath them slowly edged downhill and the ocean crept into view before them.

She had never seen anything so vast in her life, stretching on as far as the eye could see and only disappearing along with the natural slope of the round earth on the horizon. It was dark grey and looming beneath a hazy storming sky, but it was beautiful and mysterious, and so very very endless. As she let the view sink in, she couldn’t help but be reminded of Lexa. The ocean could be calm and subtle, but it could also be wild and untamable, deep and unyielding and infinite, yet beautiful and giving and full of so much life. Lexa was like the sea in more ways than one, and both had the power to stop Clarke’s heart beating in her chest and pull tears to her eyes, falling silently into the long black hair of her horse’s mane. 

She glanced to her left and saw that Octavia was having a similar reaction, mouth moving as if to form words, but speechless as she took in the sight before them. Her eyes were wide in awe and wonder and Clarke thought she looked very much like the girl who had been the first of _Skaikru_ to set foot on the ground; the girl she thought was lost long ago. That girl had lived life beneath the floorboards, condemned to die for simply committing the crime of being born, and had found her escape on the drop ship that the Hundred came down on. She had never been part of the Sky People, despite being born on the Ark, yet she was not quite a Grounder either. She had been lost somewhere between the two, but watching her now, Clarke was fairly certain that Octavia had found her place in this world.

She turned the other way and came face to face with emerald green eyes, watching her intently with a quizzical expression on her features. Clarke reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes with the back of her palm, offering Lexa a shy smile behind the blush that she knew was covering her cheeks despite the red that already plucked at them from the biting wind. She let out a small laugh, feeling as if she could breathe for the first time in days, and the Commander returned her grin softly before focusing her attention forward once more and spurring the horses just slightly faster.

It was well past midday by the time they reached the shore, emerging from the last line of tall pines to the sound of waves crashing as they broke over the nearby rocks and sand. The sun was hidden behind a thick cloud cover, offering little warmth and doing nothing to break up the dripping humidity, but Clarke felt the heat of excitement rush through her nonetheless. In front of them stood an unnatural ring of towering stones, balanced precariously on each other and arranged in a circle around a simple fire pit, moss reaching up the base of the stones in areas making them look like they had stood there for dozens of years. A little ways down the beach, Clarke could see what looked like a few deep pools situated about a hundred meters back from the ocean front and she could see thick plumes of steam rolling off the top of the water, fairly certain that these were some sort of hot springs.

The air was silent around them, the only sound was that of the waves crashing, and even the birds themselves seemed to fall quiet in the nearby trees. “What is this place?” Clarke asked as she hopped down from her saddle trying desperately to ignore the cramping in her legs.

“This place is sacred to the Boat People,” Lexa replied, her tone hushed in a show of respect as she walked forward and placed a hand on one of the nearby stone monuments.

“ _Floukru_ believes in peace,” Lincoln added, coming to stand beside Octavia as she shook out her stiff legs. “Many members of clans that do not wish to fight the wars of our people come here seeking safe passage, though it means exile from their homes and families. A ritual must be observed before they are greeted by the Boat People,” he explained. “They must first be cleansed of their violence in the hot springs, gaining purity and absolution from their waters. Then they must cast their weapons down outside the stone circle,” he said, motioning towards the ground that Clarke now noticed was littered with rusted and aging weapons. “At sunset, they must create a fire and make a sacrifice of earth to the flames, and only then will the Boat People reveal themselves,” he finished.

“Sounds like superstition,” Octavia remarked, her eyes scanning the ocean in front of them as if searching for the hidden members of _Floukru_.

“Their ways may be strange to you, Octavia, but they are firm in their beliefs,” Lexa answered, watching as her guard fanned out around the fire pit and began setting up a makeshift camp.

Octavia shrugged. “A lot of the Grounder ways seem strange to me, shit a lot of the stuff my own people do is strange to me, who am I to judge?” 

Lexa allowed a small smile at that. “Experiencing the world from many perspectives allows us the knowledge that we could not find on our own,” she replied. “Keeping an open mind to other’s beliefs creates opportunities to establish solid alliances. You would be surprised what may come of it,” she added, sparing a simple glance towards Clarke and allowing her grin to grow slightly wider.

“Thank you, Commander,” Octavia replied as she reached for Lincoln’s hand, knowing fully well what Lexa had meant. If she had not kept an open mind the first time she met Lincoln, they would not be standing there together.

“We will get to work building a fire. The Boat People will undoubtedly arrive at sundown,” Lincoln said, pulling Octavia in the direction of the trees to gather firewood and leaving Clarke and Lexa to themselves.

“Looks like we have a few hours to kill, Commander,” Clarke said, offering Lexa a gentle nudge.

Lexa nodded once. “I do not know about you, Clarke,” she mused. “But my muscles could benefit from a soak in hot water,” she said, already stepping in the direction of the steaming hot springs down the beach.

Clarke didn’t hesitate before she followed, allowing Lexa to lead her over the rocks and back through the trees to a pool that was situated in the thick cover of the forest. The water smelled salty and slightly sulfuric as it splashed and bubbled, the steam rising in thick wisps and disappearing into the cool sea breeze the whipped up and rustled through the pines around them. The hot spring was like its own little oasis amidst the thick trunks of the towering trees, offering the promise of warmth and comfort in contrast to the endless crashing waves only a hundred yards away. The Commander quickly searched the forest nearest them, ensuring that they had not been followed and were not being watched by any lurking enemies before coming to stand beside Clarke. They could still hear the sounds of Lexa’s guard talking amongst themselves in the distance, and Clarke took comfort from the fact that they were only a shout away should danger arise.

However, all thoughts of impending danger and war came to a halt as she watched Lexa slowly unfasten the buckles that held her armor in place before her fingers moved deftly over the straps that secured her jacket. Before she knew it, Lexa was standing before her in nothing more than her plain undergarments, the swell of her breasts rising slightly above the bindings that wrapped around them. Her milky skin was pale against the green of the trees, though her eyes shone a shade of green that Clarke had never seen before. She devoured the Commander’s body with her gaze, relishing in the way her wild brown hair spilled down her shoulders and how her abs clenched against the cold wind and the way her legs went on for miles.

She wanted to reach out and touch her, but found Lexa slightly out of her grasp as the Commander stepped back into the pool with a playful smile on her face. The water lapped up past her calves and Clarke watched her sink in further as she took a step closer, her expression relaxing as her muscles warmed themselves in the heat of the water. Clarke motioned to remove her own clothing, peeling it off in layers as quickly as she could despite the numbness of her fingers, hopping on one leg as she wriggled out of her boots. Lexa watched her carefully, standing in water up to her chest now as her eyes raked over Clarke’s bare form, both thirsty and hungry at the same time, begging to be sated.

When she had stripped down to her undergarments, Clarke took a tentative step into the water, feeling the heat that it sent shooting through her body all the way in her cheeks. The spring was warm, but not overly hot, instead a comfortable temperature in stark contrast the freezing temperatures around them and Clarke felt gooey mud slosh between her toes at the bottom of the pool. She waded in further, letting the water soothe her aching muscles and feeling instant relief in the soreness that resonated between her thighs. As she inched her way towards the Commander, Lexa shifted back further still, using her arms to paddle as the water rose too deep to stand. She gave Clarke a gentle smile and offered her a hand, beckoning her forward, but Clarke’s hesitation was enough to cause the slight grin to fall from her face.

“What is wrong, Clarke?” she asked, again reading her emotions without the need for words.

“Nothing, this is lovely,” Clarke replied, trying to hide her nerves behind a mask of politeness, but knowing she had failed when Lexa gave her a pointed look. “It’s just…I don’t know how to swim,” she admitted. “We didn’t have pools on the Ark because water was such a valuable resource and I’ve never learned since we’ve been on the ground.”

Lexa stared at her for a moment, green eyes flashing between concern and wonder before settling on adoration. “Do you trust me, Clarke?” she asked, wading forward so that she stood only inches from Clarke, their breath cool against each other’s lips in comparison to the heat that was rising from the water around them.

“Of course I do,” Clarke replied, letting her arms wrap around the Commander’s neck and pressing a reassuring kiss to her lips; they tasted slightly like salt, but mostly like Lexa.

Lexa’s hands came around her waist as she pushed their foreheads together. “Then, I want you to close your eyes and wrap your legs around my waist,” she whispered.

Clarke wanted to hesitate, but with Lexa’s hands on her hips and forehead against her own, she had never felt more safe. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep steadying breath, wrapping her legs tightly around the Commander’s waist and locking her fingers behind her head. She felt Lexa shift slightly beneath her, pushing back into the deeper depths of the pool and Clarke couldn’t help the wave of panic that shot through her, her eyes snapping open as she wriggled slightly in the Commander’s grasp.

“Shhh,” Lexa whispered, locking her green eyes onto Clarke’s, the forest melting into its familiar dance with the sky. “You’re okay,” she assured her. “I’ve got you.”

Lexa’s legs kicked out beneath them, treading water with enough strength to support both of their weight as they floated out towards the center of the pool. Clarke was clinging to her as if her life depended on it, but she did not struggle against the arms that held her, instead taking in deep calming breaths to steady herself. After a few minutes, she felt her fear melt away, giving over entirely to the sensation of floating with her body wrapped tightly around the woman who made her feel as if no harm would ever come to her. She opened her eyes again and smiled, letting a slight laugh escape her trembling lips before she eased their trepidation by engulfing Lexa’s mouth in a dizzying kiss.

“Is this okay?” Lexa asked when their lips parted.

“Yes,” Clarke answered, enjoying the feel of the Commander’s muscles working between her legs.

“Do you still trust me?” Lexa questioned, reverence flashing plainly across her features as Clarke nodded without hesitation. “Okay, I want you to untangle your legs from my waist. I’ve still got you, I promise,” she said, squeezing Clarke’s hips tightly in an attempt to reassure her.

Clarke hesitated at that, but only for a moment before letting out a sigh and slowly releasing the vice-like grip her legs had around Lexa’s waist. She found her body naturally kicking out at the water beneath her, keeping rhythm with Lexa’s own strokes that allowed their heads to stay above the water. Her pace faltered, but only for a moment, as Lexa slid her hands from Clarke’s hips up to interlock their fingers, putting just a hint of space between their bodies. Clarke held her gaze, focusing on the green of her eyes and timing the kicks of her legs to the loud thrumming of her heart, feeling confusion sweep through her as a wide grin spread across Lexa’s face.

“What?” she questioned, eyeing the Commander skeptically.

Lexa’s smile only grew. “You’re swimming, Clarke,” she stated.

Clarke’s eyes went wide in realization as her own smile overtook her features and a bubble of laughter welled up and erupted from her throat. “So I am,” she stated, giving a sharp tug on Lexa’s arm and pulling her close once more. “You’re a good teacher,” she whispered when their noses were touching.

“So I have heard,” Lexa replied confidently, laughing as Clarke gave her a sharp poke to the ribs with her index finger.

Clarke let her legs wrap around the Commander’s waist again, feeling the soreness from their journey slowly creeping back into her muscles and happy to let Lexa do the work of keeping them afloat for her. Lexa didn’t seem to mind as her hands wrapped possessively around Clarke’s back, running soothing fingers from her shoulders all the way down her spine. They stayed like that for a long while, gazes locked and breathing in the same air with their foreheads pressed together, giving in to the need to feel their lips against each other every so often as all the words unspoken passed between them.

“Don’t ever leave me,” Clarke found herself whispering before she could stop the thought from bursting from her lips.

Lexa shifted back slightly so that she could fully meet Clarke’s entire gaze, green eyes blaring with wisdom and understanding. “I do not intend to, Clarke,” she replied sincerely. “I will be yours in this life and the next.”

Clarke smiled at what the words implied, that death was not the end, and found herself believing them. She had always been drawn to Lexa, as if they had known each other in ten lifetimes before, and somehow she knew that they would be together in more lifetimes to come. In another world, in another time, in a different place, they would always find their way back to each other. Their destinies were intertwined, woven together as seamlessly as their hearts, and nothing would ever break that; of this, she was sure.

“Come on, Commander,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Lexa’s lips. “We should be getting back.”

Lexa nodded but was already a step ahead, shifting back slightly so that her feet touched the ground and Clarke looked around to realize that they were in the shallow end of the pool. Regretfully, she untangled her legs from Lexa’s waist and let the Commander lead her out of the spring, the bitter air sharp against her warm skin and instantly making her want to sink back into the water up to her ears. Instead, she wrung her hair out as the wind dried the water on her skin before pulling her clothes back on, grateful for the warmth they provided against the harsh temperatures. Winter would very soon be upon them and as she glanced up, she could see the bright hue of the sun against the grey clouds as it began to dip in the horizon.

She took Lexa’s hand in her own, following her back through the trees until they reached the shoreline once again, watching as the swell of white waves foamed up and sprayed as it crashed against the rocks. She was still not over how small the ocean made her feel, like a tiny insect in a very massive world, and she didn’t think she would ever be able to get past that feeling. But maybe that was how it was supposed to make her feel. The world was a large place, after all, and she was but one person, caught in the middle of a war and living each day like it was her last, desperately searching for ways to make more time. Clarke offered Lexa one last shy smile as she tugged her in the direction of the camp, letting their hands fall to their sides as she resumed the mantle of Commander, spine rigid and shoulders square as they made their way over to their comrades.

A fire had been lit, offering warmth and light that radiated in a bright circle, casting dancing shadows over the odd stone structures that surrounded them. The carcass of a deer roasted on a spit, turning slowly as the scent of cooked meat filled the air and made Clarke’s tongue water, realizing that she hadn’t eaten since that morning. She took a seat on a log beside Octavia, doing her best to hide her blush as the girl gave her a sidelong glance before wordlessly handing her a plate of food. Clarke took it gratefully and bit into the meat, letting the hot juices fill her mouth and splash against her taste buds, humming her satisfaction as she chewed.

Lexa sat down on a log across the fire and listened as one of her guards spoke to her in _Trigedasleng_ , nodding frequently in understanding before replying quietly and accepting a plate of food for herself. Lincoln meandered around a few bushes at the edge of the clearing, examining the leaves before shaking his head and tossing them away, and Clarke idly wondered what it was that he was trying to accomplish. The sun began to set behind them, for the first time that day breaking its way through the thick cloud cover as it hovered in a bright ball over the edge of the horizon where the world dipped away in the west. 

It cast the entire world in a warm yellow glow, though the haze lacked any heat, and Clarke was grateful for the roaring bonfire in front of them. Her eyes met Lexa’s and they exchanged an unspoken message, holding each other’s gaze for a long moment before returning to their meals. A sharp wind blew through the clearing and Clarke felt Octavia shift slightly closer, huddling against her arm for warmth as the wind blew the heavy scent of smoke in their direction. The last of the light faded away and the smallest sliver of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, letting the world fall to darkness.

“I’ve got it!” Lincoln called, making his way over to the fire. “This is the plant,” he told Lexa, plopping down on to the log beside her.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” Lincoln replied confidently.

With the Commander’s nod, he took a bundle of leaves and tossed them into the fire. Clarke watched in amazement as they went up in pops of green, flashing brightly before sizzling away in the heat of the licking flames. He did this a few more times, throwing the tiny bundles into the fire and watching them burst into green flames before dusting his palms together and leaning back on the log. He spared a glance at Octavia and gave her a slight reassuring smile that the other girl returned and Clarke wondered if they had talked through Octavia’s concerns about Luna and Lincoln’s history while they were out hunting for firewood. The boy loved her, there was no doubting that, and she hoped that Octavia could see it as obviously as the rest of them could.

“So, what now?” Clarke asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them despite the loud popping of the fire as it devoured wood.

“Now, we wait,” Lexa replied.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Their waiting came to an abrupt end about an hour later when the sound of a twig snapping cut through the air just outside the stone circle. Instantly, Lexa and her guards were on their feet, peering out into the darkness with weapons drawn and standing alert as a dozen or so faces came into view just beyond the glow of the fire. Lexa shifted her stance so that she hovered protectively in front of Clarke, swords raised and ready to strike down anyone who dare threaten them. Clarke felt her hand shift to the gun at her waist, resting over the grip as she subtly unclipped the holster, keeping her eyes trained on the faces in the darkness.

“Declare yourselves!” Lexa commanded, her voice sharp and filled with the promise of danger.

“Heda?” a voice called, the person it belonged to stepping out of the shadows and into the dim firelight.

He was an older man, his dark eyes framed beneath wiry grey hair that hung loosely down to his shoulders and a scraggly beard of the same shade that flowed down his chest. He wore a long black cloak, bundled against the biting cold beneath layers of fabric that were strung together with various straps and clasps. He held his empty hands out in front of him in a gesture to show that he was unarmed, though Clarke refused to believe that a Grounder would not carry a weapon. The man eyed their party wearily, scanning from face to face before meeting Lexa’s gaze and slowly lowering himself down to one knee. As he bowed, it dawned on Clarke that she had seen this man before, many times, sitting directly across from her in the council of ambassadors in Polis.

“Stand down,” Lexa called to her men, tucking her swords back into the sheaths on her back as Clarke let her hand fall away from her gun. “He’s ambassador to _Floukru_.”

“Heda, forgive me,” the man said. “We were not expecting you here.”

Lexa nodded, offering her hand to the ambassador and clasping his wrist in the traditional Grounder’s greeting as she pulled him back to his feet. “We do not mean to intrude upon your sacred ground, Mika,” Lexa said, addressing the man by his first name. “But our presence here is urgent and we require an audience with your leader.”

“Luna?” Mika asked, instantly alarmed as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“We do not mean her harm,” Lexa assured the man. “But we do seek her aid in a matter of great importance. Can you take us to her?” It was posed as a question, but Clarke was fairly certain that it had been meant as an order.

“Of course…” the man replied though his voice dipped off towards the end of his sentence as if hesitant to say what came next. “But I must ask that you leave your weapons on shore.”

Lexa sighed, jaw clenching as she worked out her thoughts prior to speaking. She allowed her eyes to wander towards Clarke for just a moment, giving her a slight reassuring nod before turning back to Mika. “Mika,” she began. “I know that you are aware of the impending war at hand. I cannot allow myself or my men to be undefended in an unknown situation. I know that _Floukru_ holds their pacifism in the highest of regards, and my hesitation is not a statement of doubt towards that fact, but we must be prepared for anything.” Lexa’s tone was hard and unwavering, her emerald green gaze settling steely over the older man, daring to be challenged.

The ambassador stared at her for a moment, blinking slowly as if he hadn’t heard correctly before letting his shoulders fall in defeat. The Coalition itself may have broken, but it was clear that this man was still loyal to his Commander. “Very well, Heda,” he said. “My trust in you has not been misplaced thus far.”

“And I will honor and respect your people as you honor and respect me,” Lexa replied. “You have my word.”

The man nodded once, motioning with his hand for the rest of his people to come forward into the light. A few of them exchanged greetings with Lexa’s guard while the rest took turns dousing the fire with buckets of water that they carried with them. When the fire had been sufficiently snubbed out, leaving them to the shadows with nothing but the dim light of the autumn moon, Mika led them down towards the water, walking along the shoreline until they came to a stop several hundred yards down the beach.

There were three different boats, the noses wedged deep into the sand to keep them from drifting back out to see as the waves washed up and lapped gently at the worn wood. At the center of each boat, there was a long beam, vaulting upward to where it attached to a cross mast with a patchwork sail rolled and tied up to keep from catching in the wind. Clarke hadn’t expected “the Boat People” to simply live in villages situated by the sea, however, now that the prospect of having to climb into a boat and sail out to open water was right in front of her, she felt nerves twisting in her stomach. But when Lexa hauled herself up into a nearby sailboat and held out a hand to pull Clarke up behind her, she didn’t hesitate to grab the Commander’s wrist, feeling Octavia and Lincoln pile in right after, all four of them settling on to a bench together.

Mika and two of his comrades put their hands on the nose of the boat, digging their heels into the sand as they pushed it back out into the waves. They waded into the water up to their waists, ensuring that the boat was beyond the break point before pulling themselves up into the hull and quickly finding blankets to protect their waterlogged clothes from the harsh winter air. Clarke wondered how they didn’t freeze to death, but their straight jawlines and hardened expressions showed her that they were well used to the frigid water and bone chilling air temperatures. 

A strong breeze gusted at their backs, carrying them further out to see, and Clarke watched as Mika stood and tugged on a string, unfurling the large sail that dropped down from the mast above and instantly filled with wind. Their speed kicked up until they were gliding quickly over the surface of the calm waves and Clarke felt her nerves die away as she glanced over the side of the boat and saw a school of bioluminescent fish playing in the wake of the boat as it cut through the water. They were glowing a bright shade of green, zipping and whizzing back and forth through the ripples, reminding Clarke of the buzzing fireflies she had seen on one of her first nights with Lexa. 

She couldn’t help herself when she slid her hand over in to the Commander’s lap and laced their fingers together, giving her hand a tight squeeze that Lexa playfully returned. Mika and his men sat on a bench at the back of the boat, busying themselves with steering a rudder and lost in their own conversation, and Clarke knew that Lincoln and Octavia were too busy in their own world to pay them any attention, so the public display of affection went on without worry. She took comfort in being so close to the Commander, their shoulders scrunched together as they attempted to shield themselves from the mist that sprayed up each time the boat dove over a rolling wave. Her hand in Clarke’s was like an anchor in itself, keeping her tethered to the one thing in the world that made her feel safe.

Clarke didn’t know how long they sailed for or where the wind was taking them, the bright light of the moon high over head reflecting in long silver gashes across the surface of the black water. She knew they were nearing their destination when a bobbing yellow light floated up over the horizon, looking entirely out of place in the middle of the dark empty ocean. As they got closer, she could see that the light wasn’t floating at all, but rather rising up over the top of the water, illuminating a large platform that was situated several feet above the surface of the ocean. It was a massive structure, built of sturdy metal with beams that disappeared deep into the water, anchoring it in place despite the hundred years that must have past since it was last in use. Clarke knew from her history lessons on the Ark that this was an old oilrig, used to drill and pull the valuable substance up from deep below the ocean floor before the war that ended the world.

“Are you seeing this shit, Clarke?” Octavia asked incredulously, nudging her.

“I’m not blind, O,” she replied, allowing a slight smile at the other girl’s playful elbow to her ribs.

It was clear that the Boat People were using it to house their village in the middle of the sea, several miles off shore and out of reach of any army or threat that sought to hurt them. Clarke thought that it was genius, and idly regretted that Raven would not be able to see it knowing the other girl would have loved to marvel at the old technology that clearly had not been used in over a century. Mika lowered their sail and used a set of oars to row them the rest of the way, coming to a stop at a metal dock that hung down just above the water at the foot of a staircase. Lexa gave Clarke’s hand one last squeeze before standing and hopping out of the boat onto the platform, gently pulling Clarke up behind her and holding her steady as her equilibrium readjusted to solid ground.

“This way,” Mika said, ushering them up the stairwell.

They climbed up to the top and Clarke quickly took in the sight of a large metal crane, rusted over and clearly inactive, but instead hosting a large basin of fire at the top that looked eerily similar to the flame that burned atop the Polis tower. There was a wide platform that looked as if it could have once been used as a landing pad for helicopters a hundred years before, but it now housed various tents and tarps, packed closely together while people milled about and sat around a few small fires. Eyes shifted towards them curiously, but Mika quickly shuffled them out of view, Lexa’s guard following closely behind as he pushed them in the direction of several metal shipping containers.

The group followed him inside one of the containers, the walls within lit by several mounted torches and candle stands as the flames played tricks with the shadows on the aluminum panels. A heavy wooden table sat in the center of the room lined with chairs of various shapes and sizes, the surface of it covered with place settings and goblets and Clarke could tell that this particular room was used for formal dining. The metal walls were a stark contrast to the medieval dining setting and it looked like a humdrum mix of modern and rustic, new and old. There were various fishing nets hanging down in some areas, perhaps for decoration or perhaps in need of repair, but it was unclear as to which. Towards the back of the room, Clarke could make out dozens of heavy metal barrels stacked on top of each other and she figured that this was what remained of the oil supply that the rig had harvested from before the war. 

“I must ask that you wait here while I announce your arrival to Luna,” Mika said, motioning towards the table for them to take a seat. “If you require food or drink, I will have some brought in for you.”

“We just need to speak with Luna,” Lexa replied, not bothering to hide the urgency in her tone.

“I will return shortly then,” the ambassador replied, exiting out of the shipping container the way they’d entered.

Silence fell over them as they waited, standing together with their hands positioned on the hilts of their weapons as if preparing themselves for some sort of ambush. Clarke figured that it could very likely be a trap, after all they had been asked to leave their weapons on shore, and now they’d been huddled in to a confined space like fish in a barrel. If _Azgeda_ had somehow turned _Floukru_ to their cause, their little party would not stand a chance against the force of an entire clan. However, despite the defensive position of her guards, Lexa’s expression looked quite relaxed, though her jaw was ticking slightly in the manner that Clarke had figured out meant she was nervous. Lincoln looked as if he was about to come undone with excitement, shifting from foot to foot like he could not stand still, his eyes shooting towards the door with every sound.

“Hey, Commander,” Octavia said, breaking the silence. “If _Floukru_ is part of the Coalition, how is it that they are allowed to remain pacifists?” she asked. “Do you not force them to fight?”

Clarke had been wondering the same thing herself. “ _Floukru_ …this place,” Lexa answered, using her hand in a broad sweeping motion. “Serves as a place of banishment for warriors who refuse to fight for their clans. They may live out their days in peace here, but they are branded traitors and cowards to their people.”

“Once a warrior joins the ranks of _Floukru_ , they must leave their friends and family behind and are not permitted to return on penalty of treason,” Lincoln elaborated. “In exchange, they are not forced to fight in the conflicts of our people.”

“Isn’t that what four of the clans are doing right now?” Clarke questioned, remembering Titus’s words from a few days before. “Refusing to fight in a war that is not their own?”

“Yes,” Lexa answered. “But with the Coalition broken, I cannot bring punishment down on the clans that choose to remain neutral without starting a war on two fronts. We must defeat Nia and the alliance that Ice Nation has formed, and then we can restore order to the Coalition. I will not fault the clan leaders that choose to abstain from the conflict for doing what they think is best for their people, even if it feels like betrayal.”

“And what about these people?” Octavia asked. “Why allow _Floukru_ into the Coalition at all if they don’t offer to fight and die with the rest of the clans?”

“Because all people are worthy of being represented equally by their governing force regardless of their beliefs or morals, Octavia,” Lexa replied without hesitation, her tone one of confidence, like a teacher instructing an eager student. “If we cannot lead justly, then we should not lead at all.”

Clarke felt a familiar rush of pride as she often did at the Commander’s words, her wisdom spanning lifetimes beyond her years and her love for her people evident in each and every one of her actions. She opened her mouth to voice her agreement, but was abruptly cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. In unison, they turned their gazes towards the entrance to the room and watched as Mika reentered, followed closely by a young woman. 

She was strikingly beautiful, her sharp features framed by a mane of crimped brown hair that flowed down past her shoulders and frizzed out in all directions, clearly soaking in the humidity of the sea air. Her eyes were an equally deep shade of brown beneath a stern brow and a straight nose, her bow-shaped lips pursed tightly as she scanned the occupants of the room. Her jaw was rigid and she held her shoulders high in an identical way to Lexa, except her appearance was entirely less formal. Her feet were bare beneath dark colored pants that looked to be made of a mixture between fish net and leather, and she wore a long black tunic that ended halfway down her thighs in stringy lengths of fabric. She had a jacket on, clasped in place by a single buckle and reflecting various hues of blues and greens that swam in the flickering candlelight and multiple shell necklaces dawned her throat, hanging well down past her chest. She was a mixture between wild and regal, her expression impassive as her gaze flitted from person to person, lingering on Lincoln before finally settling on Lexa.

“ _Leksa kom Trikru_ ,” the woman spoke, addressing the Commander informally. “Lincoln,” she added, offering him a slight nod. Clarke could tell that he was itching to speak, but remained silent out of respect.

If the informality was at all offensive, Lexa did not show it, instead her expression remained stone as her green eyes raked over the woman in front of them. “Luna,” she regarded the woman carefully, her tone empty. “It is good to see that you are well.”

“I do not assume that the nature of your visit is purely social,” Luna replied, ignoring the niceties. 

Clarke wondered at the cold demeanor of the leader of _Floukru_ , knowing fully well that she was Costia’s sister and that at one point in time they were all close friends. She had fled the conclave, but Lexa had protected her, refusing to order her death and instead turning the situation in to one that offered safe harbor for warriors who refused to fight. She thought that the reunion might be a welcome one, but it was clear that Luna took no joy in seeing them there, and Clarke pondered whether she was holding a personal grudge or if she was acting purely on behalf of her people.

“You assume correctly,” Lexa answered. “This is _Klark kom Skaikru_ , Leader of the Sky People,” the Commander continued, motioning to Clarke at her side. “And this is _Oktavia kom Skaikru_ ,” she said. “We are here because we seek your aid.”

“Your presence here is unwelcome,” Luna answered, again ignoring etiquette. “You put my people at risk of retaliation from _Azgeda_ just by coming here. Whatever aid you seek, we cannot offer.”

“Luna,” Lincoln said, speaking up for the first time, his voice tender. “Just hear them out. Please.”

The _Floukru_ leader seemed to soften at that, her shoulders slightly deflating as she let out a heavy sigh. “Very well,” she spoke after a long moment of contemplating, shuffling further in to the room and taking a seat at the head of the table.

Lexa moved to the other end of the table, sitting opposite of Luna at the other head, the obvious position of two leaders. Clarke took a seat to her right while Lincoln and Octavia filled the chair across from her, turning their attention back to the Commander. “By now you are aware that _Azgeda_ and the clans that follow them have declared war on what remains of my Coalition,” Lexa spoke. “Undoubtedly their first target will be Arkadia in an attempt to cripple the _Skaikru_ forces.”

“I’m aware,” Luna answered. “You may think that we are untouched and unaffected by conflict out here, but word travels quickly despite our isolation. Still, that does not explain why you are here. My people are peaceful, I do not have warriors to offer you.”

“I am not here for your people,” Lexa responded, green eyes blazing in the flickering light. “We simply seek a resource that I know you have.”

“What?” the other leader questioned. “What do we have that you could possibly want? What do you need from us that you cannot find in Polis?”

“Oil,” Clarke supplied before Lexa could answer. “And judging by those barrels back there,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “You seem to have a surplus of it.” Even though the rig had not worked in over a century, it appeared that those who last inhabited just before the war had left their stock lying around.

Luna regarded her silently, eyeing her from head to toe and passing silent judgments that Clarke could almost hear ringing in her head. “ _Wanheda_ ,” Luna addressed her. “What use do you have for oil?”

“My people have engineers and technicians. We can use it to fuel our rovers and we can use it to make weapons so that we can defend ourselves from Ice Nation,” she explained.

“So you do seek our aid in destroying your enemies, even if it is by passive means,” Luna pondered. “This goes against our way of life. I cannot help you.”

“Luna, if you do not help them, an entire clan will die,” Lincoln interjected once more. Clarke could see Octavia fuming angrily in her seat beside him, her face red as she struggled to bite back the insults that were begging to be released.

“And if I do help, how long before you return asking for more? How long before you come back asking for my people to fight?” she questioned. “We are here because we do not believe in war. We live in isolation, separated from our families and our villages because we chose the path of peace instead of war, yet you call upon us to aid in battle anyway,” she seethed, her tone rising just an octave higher.

Lincoln opened his mouth to respond, but Lexa held up a hand, cutting him off. “You have brought peace to your people, and I admire you for that, Luna,” Lexa began, her tone even and calming. “But I aim to bring peace to _all_ of our people. I seek to create a world in which we may live side by side with our neighbors instead of at the end of their spears; I dream of a future in which our children will not have to know the perils of war or the pain of loss; I see a life in which those who choose to abstain from battle may do so without fear of retribution, and those who choose to fight may do so of their own accord, not because it is demanded of them,” she said, her voice filling the room with a passion that seemed to make the flames on the candles themselves grow hotter. “But we cannot have this future as long as Ice Nation poses a threat to our way of life.”

Luna stared at the Commander for a moment, her jaw clenching as she absorbed the words and envisioned the sentiments laid before her. “And you believe that me betraying my beliefs will help to assist you in that vision?” she asked.

“I do not ask you to betray your beliefs, sister,” Lexa replied. “I simply ask that you offer aid and safety to those who seek it, same as I always have.”

“My people need your help,” Clarke spoke up, searching her heart for the same wisdom and passion that the Commander put behind each and every one of her words. “I understand that your people do not believe in war, but believe me when I say that we did not ask for this war. In fact, we did everything in our power to try and stop it. Sometimes we are forced in to situations that we have no control over, and all we can do then is try to control the outcome. I respect your way of life, and I respect that you are trying to do what is best for your people, just like I am trying to do what is best for mine. If you help us, you will be saving more people than you know, not just _Skaikru_ , but also the warriors of the clans that have agreed to fight by our side,” she finished.

Luna listened intently, allowing her to speak and giving her full attention, her facial expression as impassive as Lexa’s and it was becoming more obvious that they had both received the same novitiate training. When Clarke fell silent, Luna spoke again. “And what of my people?” she asked. “Why should we aid you if at the end of the day we are still left stranded in the middle of the ocean?”

“I have told you my vision for the future, Luna,” Lexa replied. “If you aid us in this and help us end the threat of _Azgeda_ , there will be no more need for war and warriors alike. We may have our peace that we have both dreamed of since before our conclave, the peace that Costia dreamed of, and I would like to see your people a part of that peace. They are your beliefs after all.”

“If I agree to help you, then will you lift the banishment on our heads? Will we be allowed to see our families again and build a village on shore rather than living in isolation in the middle of the ocean?” Luna questioned. Clarke knew that everything in this world was bargained or traded for, and this was one deal that she could definitely agree with.

“Are those the terms you offer?” the Commander asked in return.

“Yes,” Luna replied.

“Then I accept your terms,” Lexa answered, pushing back from the table and walking over to where Luna had rose from her seat. The women clasped arms in agreement, holding tightly and maintaining eye contact. “We will take what barrels we can carry and then we will go. We must return to Arkadia immediately.”

Luna nodded her understanding but hesitated before releasing Lexa’s wrist, her eyes swimming in conflict. “We all must make sacrifices for our people. I do not believe in war, but I will sacrifice my own vow of peace to ensure that you hold up your end of the bargain,” she said after a long pause. Lexa arched a perfect eyebrow curiously, but Luna spoke again before she could question the meaning of her words. “I’m coming with you,” she said.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The trip back to shore was a slow-going and painstaking endeavor. With the wind in their faces instead of at their backs, they were forced to row their boats against the current, the waves bouncing and tossing them, spraying their faces and clothes with freezing black water until they were soaked to the bone. Not to mention they were ten drums of oil and one person heavier as they inched their way back towards land and it wasn't long before Clarke felt the threat of seasickness sweep through her stomach. The sky was black and rumbling as the moon disappeared behind a thick cloud covering, and the rolling waves of an approaching storm were not aiding the situation.

Despite her cramping stomach, she could tell that she was fairing a lot better than Octavia and Lexa. Lexa sat silently beside her, clenching her jaw tighter than her white-knuckled fists and staring at the distant line of the shore without blinking as if somehow willing it to come closer. Even without the bright moon over head, she could see that the Commander's brow was drenched in a mix of sweat and ocean spray and her emerald eyes were watery against the sickly shade of green that had fallen over her impassive features. Clarke wanted to comfort her but feared that speaking would only make her more sick, so instead reached over and gave her knee a silent reassuring squeeze. Octavia, on the other hand, had already surrendered her fight to the rolling sea, leaning over and losing her dinner over the side of the boat as Lincoln ran soothing hands down her back and pulled her sopping wet hair away from her face. This adventure was quickly becoming more trouble than it was worth, but Clarke hoped that the payout would be invaluable in bolstering the defenses of Arkadia.

Luna sat in the bow of the boat watching them in amusement as they struggled to keep their stomachs intact, but her sly grin slightly faltered at the sight of Lincoln caring for Octavia so tenderly. She stared at them for a moment as a range of emotions flicked through her deep brown eyes that she attempted to keep from her impassive features, but Clarke had become far too good at reading the feelings written in people's eyes and had seen exactly why the _Floukru_ leader was trying to hide; she was jealous, but only for a moment before her gaze flitted to something more along the lines of regret, and then eventually defeat. She noticed Clarke watching her and offered her a slight nod before pushing a strand of damp hair off her forehead and turning her attention to the shore that looked as if it was finally looming just a bit closer.

When they finally reached solid land what felt like an eternity later, they climbed out of the boat on wobbly legs and silently thanked whatever forces at work for the hard earth beneath their feet. Their brief rest was short-lived, however, as the members of Lexa's guard and Luna's men began offloading the kegs of oil onto the sand. Their horses were tethered to the trees where they'd left them with a few of the other guards and they worked together to lift the dozen or so twenty-gallon barrels onto the horses backs and secured them tightly into place behind the saddles. They waited patiently as one of Luna's men fetched her a horse from somewhere down the beach and returned about ten minutes later with the reins in hand.

The sun was just starting to rise, peeking up over the horizon, when they climbed into their saddles and set off through the forest in the direction of Arkadia to the west with the dawn at their backs. In the shelter of the trees, the wind no longer bit as sharply at their cheeks, but their heavy fur jackets and leather boots were soaked with sea water and uncomfortable in the brisk morning air. Clarke wanted to sit by a fire and allow the warmth of it to dry her clothes and thaw her frozen muscles, but she knew that time was of the essence and they needed to return to the rest of _Skaikru_ as soon as possible. Despite having been awake all night, she was not tired, instead she found energy in the prospect of bringing some measure of safety to her people.

As usual, the leadership road at the center of the pack, flanked by guards for protection as they trampled through the thin underbrush, the hooves of their steeds crunching heavily over dried leaves and twigs. Clarke and Octavia were situated behind Lincoln, Luna and Lexa, straining to hear the hushed conversation between the three and giving each other sidelong glances when the realized that it was futile. Resigned to the fact that the old friends had not seen each other in years and were likely just catching up, Clarke gave up the attempt to listen in though she knew that Octavia would not be dissuaded as easily. Every so often, the Commander would spare a glance back at Clarke and offer her a slight smile as if to check that she was still following and still safe. After a few hours, Luna seemed to take notice of the repetitive action and turned to shoot Clarke an inquisitive glare of her own, eyebrow arching in obvious question. Clarke tried to keep the blush from her cheeks, hoping that the red in them would be attributed to the bitter cold, but knew she had failed when a look of realization dawned in Luna's eyes.

"Are we that obvious?" Clarke asked incredulously, keeping her eyes trained on Luna's back as if trying to burn a hole through her head to read her thoughts. She felt as if she had asked this question a dozen times before.

"You and Lexa?" Octavia scoffed behind a laugh. "Oh please, Clarke. A blind person could see the way Commander Heart Eyes pines after you."

Clarke allowed a small smile at that, happy that the world could see exactly who she belonged to. "Well you and Lincoln aren't so subtle yourselves."

"At this point, I think that's a good thing," Octavia replied, her own searing glower melting holes in the back of Luna's head.

It was late afternoon by the time that Clarke finally felt the weight of exhaustion sinking in to her bones. She slumped slightly in her saddle, eyes pulling ever so slowly closed as she struggled to fight against the sleep that threatened to tip her from the horse. She tried to stay awake by humming quietly to herself a song that she had grown up with on the Ark mixed in with the haunting melody of the tune Lexa had played her on the piano what felt like ages before; a healthy blend of sky and ground, reminiscent of the person she had become over the past few months. 

Her tired eyes drifted to the trees around them, startled wide awake for a moment at the sight of another pair of eyes staring back at her from the dark underbrush, but as she blinked a few times the vision seemed to dissolve away. She thought that her exhausted mind might have been playing tricks on her, forcing her to see things that weren't there, but Lexa had turned in time to witness the alarmed expression on her face and pulled her horse to an immediate stop.

"Clarke?" Lexa asked, tone filled with worry. "What's wrong? What did you see?"

But her questions were quickly answered by the sound of an arrow slicing sharply through the air, whizzing past the Commander's face and sinking deep into the trunk of a tree behind her head. Chaos ensued as a band of Ice Nation warriors erupted from the trees, their faces smothered in grey war paint as they charged towards their party with blood lust in their eyes. They each wore thick brown and black furs, tinted in different shades of each color so that they camouflaged near invisibly with the forest around them. There was about a dozen of them, weapons drawn and raised as their shouts cut through the silent forest around them, echoing off the high trees.

"Stay here, Clarke!" Lexa yelled over her shoulder, already hopping off her horse as she charged to meet their enemies in battle.

Clarke watched as the Commander pulled her swords from the sheaths on her back and spun them with a flourish as she sprinted towards their attackers. Lexa's guard followed close on her heels, reacting instantly to the orders that their Commander was shouting at them in _Trigedasleng_ as they moved to form rank and circle around behind their enemies. Lincoln pushed his way through to Lexa's side, drawing his own sword as he stood defensively by his fearless leader. Clarke was surprised to find that Luna had meant it when she said she would put her oaths on hold for the betterment of her people, grabbing a spear from the guard nearest her and twirling it about behind her back.

The entire ordeal happened in a blink, though time seemed to slow in Clarke's mind. Lexa met with the first enemy, dispatching him quickly as she blocked his overhand strike with the sword in her left hand before driving the blade in her right hand up into his chest and pulling it out swiftly covered in the crimson red of blood. Lincoln dropped his shoulder low and plowed into an Ice Nation warrior that tried to sneak in behind the Commander, knocking him to the ground before impaling his sword through the enemy's chest and rising back to his feet to block an oncoming attack. Luna took on an attacker of her own blocking his wild strikes with the wooden shaft of her spear before giving it a quick spin to bash the warrior across the skull and whirling around to sweep his legs out from under him. It wasn't a kill strike, but Lexa seemed to have been anticipating this as she quickly turned and tore open the man’s throat with her own sword before spinning and taking on two more attackers.

The two women stood back to back, defending each other and parrying strikes effortlessly with grace and poise as if locked in some sort of lethal dance that they had rehearsed long ago. Each time that Luna incapacitated an opponent, Lexa would swiftly deliver the kill strike, communicating back and forth with simple commands over their shoulders that were obeyed without question. It was clear that even having spent years apart, they trusted each other intrinsically, both skilled in the art of war far beyond any of those around them. It was evident that Luna was upholding her vow not to kill, but the Commander easily seemed to compensate for this as she ended the lives of their enemies in rapid succession.

Lincoln was holding his own, locked in battle with two Ice Nation warriors that had tried to flank him while the rest of Lexa's guard took on opponents of their own. Lincoln's sheer strength was intimidating enough, but the way he wielded his sword with deadly precision was a skill all to itself. He side-stepped the jab of an enemy spear, grabbing it in his free hand as it shot past him and using his sword to sever it right down the middle, leaving the enemy warrior holding nothing more than a useless stick. He spun the spear head in his hand as he turned, driving it into the other attacker's stomach before turning and swiping his sword across the original opponent's chest before he could use what was left of his spear to block the strike. Both men crumpled to the ground in a heap of blood as the life drained quickly from their eyes.

They made quick work of their enemies, but Clarke's heart sank deep into her chest when a second wave of _Azgeda_ warriors emerged from the trees, likely having been drawn in by the sounds of battle and the painful shouts of dying men. She spared a glance at Octavia, understanding passing between them as they both nodded in unison and slid down off their horses. Octavia was already pulling her dual swords from their sheaths and sprinting towards Lincoln where he now took on three attackers. 

Clarke's hand shifted to the gun at her waist as she yanked it out of its holster, and clicked off the safety, loading a bullet into the chamber. She didn't hesitate as she took aim and fired at a Grounder that had his bow trained on Octavia as she ran, unleashing three bullets that sunk into the chest and arms of her mark with a splatter of blood. The man fell to the ground, motionless, and just like that, Clarke had added another casualty to her death toll. She couldn't allow herself to breakdown or even consider letting the death affect her as a group of five Ice Nation warriors moved to surround Lexa and Luna, effectively cutting them off from the rest of Lexa's guard as they stood locked in battles of their own.

Lexa had lost one of her swords in the fray and Clarke spotted it where it was driven through the abdomen of a fallen warrior, thrust in with such force that it pinned his immobile body to the ground. She now defended herself with the single sword that she had left, spinning in unison with Luna as they switched from offense to defense, deflecting the blows of incoming strikes. Luna shouted something over her shoulder in _Trigedasleng_ and Lexa reacted, ducking quickly as a projectile spear soared through the space where her head had been a split second before. She used the opportunity to yank the dagger from her boot and hurl it into the chest of an oncoming attacker as she popped back up into a standing position.

Octavia stood beside Lincoln, fending off an attacker as she put the countless hours of grueling training with Indra to good use, deflecting blows with ease as she used her speed to dip and dodge around sloppily placed attacks. The Ice Nation warrior anticipated one of her parries, faking to his left and when Octavia dodged right, used a lead fist to crack a sharp jab across her cheek. The girl stumbled back, only slightly dazed by the impact before shifting her guard back into place and charging forward once more, a new determination hardened in her eyes. She brought her sword down in rapid succession, throwing strike after strike at her opponent who was doing all that he could to get his sword up in time as she drove him back towards the tree line. With his attention focused only on Octavia, he didn’t see Lincoln step in behind him until it was too late, the edge of Lincoln’s sword sinking in to the enemy warrior’s back and protruding out through his chest as his eyes went wide in shock. 

Clarke’s attention quickly shifted back to Luna and Lexa as the clash of metal against metal echoed loudly off the high trees around them. The women were still outnumbered, pressed back to back as they each defended against two attackers, brows furrowed in concentration beneath the thick drops of their fallen enemies’ blood that dripped down their faces. Clarke wanted to help, looking on in hopeless horror as she aimed her gun but didn’t dare to shoot, too afraid that she might accidentally hit Lexa or Luna. 

Lexa spun quickly as Luna tripped up another Ice Nation warrior, sweeping his legs out from beneath him, and the man was dead before his body even hit the ground. The rest of Lexa’s guard had dispatched their opponents and were now rushing over to defend their Commander, outnumbering the remaining _Azgeda_ fighters and making quick work of them. The forest fell silent once more as the last warrior fell to Lexa’s unforgiving sword, driving it straight through his chest and yanking it out with purpose. 

The Commander was breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling as she sucked in the bitter cold air and breathed it out in long puffs of white. What was exposed of her bare skin, like on her hands and face, was covered in blood, thick and red and muddling in runny streams with the sweat that beaded down from her forehead. Her heavy overcoat was tattered across her bicep and Clarke felt a rush of worry at whether she’d been hit, but couldn’t see any blood poking out from beneath the torn sleeve. Lexa’s green eyes were wild and filled with fear as she whirled around, instantly locking on to Clarke as she breathed a visible sigh of relief.

None of them saw the last Ice Nation warrior hiding out in the line of the trees, camouflaged in his grey and black furs against the dark forest. A fortunate break in the clouds revealed the hidden archer just as he was taking aim, staring down the shaft of his arrow that was pointed directly at the Commander. Clarke reacted without thinking, bringing her gun up and pulling the trigger two, three, four times, unloading bullet after bullet at the man who threatened the life of the woman she would do anything to protect. She hit her mark just as he released the tension on his bow string, the impact of the bullets throwing off his trajectory and causing the arrow to soar far wide of its mark.

Lexa’s eyes went wide as she turned and took in the sight of the dead archer, realizing that Clarke had most certainly just saved her life. “Fan out and search for any more archers that might be in the area!” she commanded what was left of her men.

When the orders were given and obeyed, she turned her attention directly back to Clarke, closing the distance between them in three long strides. Clarke could feel her entire body trembling both with adrenaline and trepidation as Lexa reached up and framed her face with two strong hands. She stood there and scanned over every inch of Clarke’s body as if looking for proof of a physical injury, and when she saw none, Clarke felt her sigh of relief hot against her lips. Lexa let their gazes melt together, sky and earth, as she ran soothing thumbs across Clarke’s jawline, her gaze flicking down to Clarke’s lips and back up again as if she was fighting the irresistible urge to press their mouths together.

“Clarke,” she whispered, the single syllable sounding like a plea and a prayer. “Are you okay?”

Clarke felt herself nodding long before she could find her own voice. “Y— yes,” she finally stammered out. “I’m fine. Are you hurt?” she asked, remembering the tear she spotted in Lexa’s cloak and bringing her hand up to check for an injury.

“I am well,” Lexa replied, quickly putting her concerns to rest. “You may have just saved my life.”

“I will always protect you, Lexa,” Clarke promised, willing the other girl to hear the truth in those words. The Commander was always so quick to defend Clarke, risking her life time and time again to ensure Clarke’s safety and the safety of her people, but what she didn’t realize was that Clarke would do the same for her without hesitation or a second thought.

Lexa gave her a single nod though the flash in her eyes told Clarke that she was biting back protest. “We should go. It is not safe here,” she said instead.

“How did they find us?” Clarke asked, eyes scanning over the two dozen or so dead Ice Nation warriors.

“That is what concerns me, Clarke,” Lexa replied. “They knew we were not in Arkadia, which means that our people are being watched. I feel that this is just the beginning of the death that is to come.”

Clarke’s resolve hardened at those words. She thought the next time she’d have to kill someone that her guilt would come crashing through her walls, sending her back into a downward spiral far darker than the one she’d been trapped in after Mount Weather. But she felt nothing for the men she’d just killed. She felt no regret, no crushing guilt, no disgust or indignation, she simply felt hollow. In fact, there was a distinct sense of relief flooding through her that they had all made it out in one piece, even the members of Lexa’s guard that were now scouring the nearby woods. They were lucky to be alive, standing victorious amongst a litter of dead bodies and Clarke had just killed two people, but she felt nothing. This is what war felt like.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They sat around the bonfire at the center of their makeshift camp later that evening. Despite having been victorious in their ambush, the mood was solemn and quiet, each person eating their dinner in reserved silence as the fire cracked and popped in front of them to fill the space where there were no words. They’d traveled a few miles north of where they’d been attacked and made camp for the night, hoping that if there were more war parties out searching for them that they would be looking further west. They would resume travel in the morning and hopefully make it back to Arkadia by afternoon the next day as long as they were not ambushed again and suffered no further delays. 

Rain had begun to fall not long after their battle and had poured down in heavy torrents, long since washing the blood and dirt away from their clothes and leaving them cold and shivering. It stopped just before dusk as they were erecting their makeshift tents for the night, and the crackling fire now offered warmth and relief to their frozen and aching joints. There had been meat left from the night before and Clarke happily helped herself to a plate, sating her rumbling stomach before the exhaustion from lack of sleep overtook her as she tried to choke back a heavy yawn.

Octavia and Lincoln had already disappeared into their own tent for the evening, leaving Lexa, Clarke and Luna sitting by the fire with a few other guards that had managed to stay awake. Clarke felt bad for whichever guards had to take the first night watch, not having slept in nearly forty-eight hours, but she knew that they would do their duty diligently and without question. Lexa caught Clarke yawning and gave her a slight elbow nudge from beside her, motioning with her head towards their tent and urging her to retire for the night. Luna watched them curiously from across the fire, brow arched in speculation, though she did not speak. 

“Go get some rest, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “I will be in in a few minutes.”

Clarke wanted to protest, the thought of falling asleep without Lexa by her side causing her too much discomfort than she would care to admit, but she was so tired that she simply nodded in agreement and stood. “Goodnight, Luna,” she called to the other girl, offering her a nod of respect. She hadn’t been sure about the leader of _Floukru_ at first, but after seeing the way that she fought and defended Lexa, there was no doubt in her mind that this was a woman that she wanted by their side.

“Goodnight, Clarke of the Sky People,” Luna returned, brown eyes dancing warmly in the light of the fire.

Clarke shuffled off towards the tent, throwing a glance over her shoulder in an attempt to communicate to Lexa not to delay too long, but saw that the Commander was shifting to sit next to Luna. It was clear that there was still much for them to talk about and she could practically see Luna’s mind turning and bursting with questions that she wanted answered. Clarke would allow them their time together, ducking in through the flaps of the tent and dropping down onto the ground to pull off her damp boots and soaked socks. The makeshift tent was small, nothing compared to the portable command tent that Lexa seemed to inhabit far more frequently than her home in Polis. It was simply a canvas tarp set over a frame that allowed just enough room to stand, the inside consisting of nothing more than a couple of fur duvets and pillows; it was intended for sleep and nothing more. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but when the sound of voices filtered in to the tent, she couldn’t help but listen in.

"I never had a chance to thank you, Alexandria," she heard the comfortable lilt of Luna's voice drift through the tent. "For protecting me after I fled the conclave. I know that you are the one who kept the Flamekeeper from coming after me."

There was a brief pause in which only the popping of firewood could be heard before Lexa spoke. "You acted on behalf of your beliefs rather than what was expected of you," she said. "You never did put thought before action. I think that is a trait I both admired and envied you for, though it is one that I've never had the luxury of."

"Duty above feelings; head before heart. This is why you were destined to be Commander. Not I. I had no place there," Luna added and Clarke could hear the pain in her voice through the admission.

"We all have fates that we do not choose, Luna," Lexa replied, her voice wistful. "I spared you because I respected your decision to change your fate. And because I know you would have done the same for me."

There was no hesitation before Luna's reply. "Yes, I would have."

Silence settled over them once more and Clarke strained into it, waiting for more. It was another minute before Lexa continued. "I am sorry that you had to break your oath," she said, referring to the vow of nonviolence that all of _Floukru_ had taken. Luna hadn’t actually killed anyone, but she had engaged in battle nonetheless. "But I am glad that you are here. We are so close to a lasting peace."

"Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the sake of our people," Luna stated. "That was perhaps the one lesson that I agreed upon with the Flamekeeper. And I think Costia would have wanted it this way. She would have wanted us to protect each other."

Clarke imagined a painful expression settling over Lexa's features at the mention of her former love, but her tone was light when she spoke as if reminiscing. "Costia would have been right in the middle of it all. Nobody fought harder for what they believed in than she did."

"Stubbornness is a trait we got from our mother," Luna joked and Clarke could almost see the sad smile on her face, not quite reaching her brown eyes.

There was another long pause that seemed to go on for hours though Clarke knew that it could have been seconds only. "I am sorry, Luna," Lexa's voice was strained now. "I should have been the one to bring you the news."

Suddenly Clarke felt like she was intruding on a very private conversation. She knew that she should just turn away and give them their moment, but she couldn't bring herself to do it when she heard Luna's reply. "Lincoln told me that the Ice Queen killed her because she would not betray you."

"Yes," Lexa answered curtly.

Luna's heavy sigh filled the brief silence. "You know she never would have," she said. "She loved you too much. I just hope that you do not blame yourself for the sacrifice she made."

"I did," Lexa's reply came quickly. "For a long time, I did. Love was weakness."

"Was?"

"I am not sure that I believe those words anymore."

"I am not sure that you ever believed them, Lexa," Luna mused. "No matter how hard you may have tried."

Clarke felt her heart thudding in her chest, pounding at even the thought of hearing this conversation, yet she was glued in place, unable to pry herself away. "Maybe you are right," Lexa stated.

The fire cracked and their words faded away for a moment before Luna finally broke the quiet air once more. "So, you and the Sky Girl?" she asked.

"Clarke," Lexa quickly corrected.

"You care about her," Luna stated, a simple fact and not a question.

"Yes," Lexa responded anyway. "Clarke is special."

"You look at her the same way that you used to look at my sister," Luna replied. "Like she gives you a reason to survive."

Clarke realized that she was holding her breath, but she couldn't dig through all the nerves balled in her throat to make her lungs start working again. "Clarke gives me a reason to _live_ ," Lexa answered, her voice soft and full of reverence. "She makes me believe that life is about more than just surviving."

"Does that feel like weakness to you?" Luna asked.

"What I feel for Clarke is not weakness at all," Lexa replied quickly. "If anything, she gives me strength when I do not have my own."

"That is what love is, Lexa," Luna answered, speaking as if from experience. "Love is strength. It is not weakness."

"No," Lexa said. "It's not."

Silence fell over them once more, and when Lexa spoke again, her voice was a lot closer than Clarke had anticipated. "Thank you, Luna," she called, just outside the tent.

"Goodnight, Commander," Luna returned, still in the same place as before.

There was no time for Clarke to turn and try to hide the tears that had been silently falling down her cheeks when Lexa pushed through the flaps, green eyes going wide in alarm as she took in Clarke's appearance in the dim light of a single lit candle. The Commander quickly dropped to her knees in front of Clarke, reaching up and framing her face with both hands as she thumbed the tears from her eyes and chin. She glanced down, scanning over Clarke's body as if rapidly checking for signs of physical injury before her gaze met Clarke's once more.

"Clarke?" she asked, voice filled with concern. "What is wrong?"

Clarke simply shook her head, unable to find her words as she attempted to calm the storm of emotions rampaging through her heart at that moment. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, realizing that there was nothing she could say to accurately describe what she was feeling in that moment. Instead, she brought her trembling hands up to close around Lexa's wrists and pulled her closer so that their foreheads were touching. She offered the Commander a slight smile, ghosting her lips ever so slightly before she simply pressed her mouth to Lexa's, closing the space between them in a tender kiss that said all the words she couldn't even begin to find.

Lexa pulled back slowly, her green eyes fluttering open and then going wide as realization dawned on her. "You heard all of that?" she asked.

Clarke nodded, finally able to find enough control to muster a single syllable. "Yes," she whispered.

"Clarke, I don't know—

Whatever she was about to say was abruptly cut off as Clarke pressed their lips together in another kiss, this time slightly more insistent than the last as the rest of the world faded away around them. The kiss was slow and deliberate, full of a hundred different emotions but only one that really mattered as their mouths moved together in unison. Clarke deepened the kiss, tilting her head to gain better access to Lexa's mouth as her tongue skittered across the Commander's bottom lip. Lexa accepted her in, allowing Clarke to taste the desire on her tongue as she gently lowered the blonde to her back on the plush duvets, bracing her hands on either side of Clarke's head as she leaned over her, never once breaking the kiss.

Clarke pressed further in to Lexa, sucking in staggered breaths through her nose that were shaky as she let out, feeling hot sticky heat gather between her thighs where her clit was already throbbing. She felt the overwhelming need to be in control of this moment, the raw lust smoldering between them like the burning embers of coals rather than a searing fire, and she lifted her hands to Lexa’s waist, turning her over onto her back in one fluid motion. She shifted her knee between Lexa’s legs, but did not press, instead just simply left it there to provide further heat as her tongue flicked across the roof of Lexa’s mouth before sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and offering a gentle nip that drew a quiet whimper from Lexa’s throat.

Clarke’s movements were slow and deliberate, gentle in nature as she savored the moment, holding back the desire that coursed through her blood and pounded behind her eyes. She wanted this to be slow and soft, she wanted to show Lexa the extent of her feelings with every press of her lips and touch of her hand, she needed Lexa to see just how deep her desires ran. She broke their kiss for just a few seconds, long enough for her to trail soft kisses down the sharp edge of Lexa’s jawline before running her mouth back up to her lips again. She let her fingers fumble with the clasps of Lexa’s armor and jacket, unclipping them and softly pushing it back off her shoulders until the Commander shrugged out of it and tossed it aside.

Her body was bare but for the bra beneath the simple black shirt and Clarke’s movements were delicate as she slipped her hands under the fabric of both, gently pulling them away at once so that Lexa’s bare breasts sprung free of their bindings, nipples already hard at attention. Clarke felt the overwhelming urge to be just as open and raw, and fiddled with her own clothes until her chest was bare and glistening in the dim candlelight as she leaned down and pushed their warm skin together. There was something indescribable in the intimacy of skin on skin contact, and Clarke struggled to maintain control of her breathing as Lexa’s green eyes focused on her intently, pupils dilated and filled with desire.

Lexa’s hands roamed down to Clarke’s wrists, closing around them and pushing them slowly down towards her waistline as she hooked her own finger beneath her pants and gave a gentle tug. Clarke understood, fulfilling her need as she pulled off the Commander’s boots followed by her pants and underwear in one slow drag, fingers skittering down the length of Lexa’s thigh as she went. Clarke’s heart pounded so loudly in her chest at the sight of Lexa naked before her that she thought the entire camp might mistake it for an approaching war drum. She felt the nerves in her stomach flipping in on themselves and she knew that in the low light, she no longer cared about holding in the words that had not long ago scared her to even imagine. 

She leaned forward, shifting on to Lexa’s side so that she was propped up onto her left elbow and looking down into the Commander’s wide eyes as her right hand trailed down Lexa’s rigid abs. She heard Lexa’s breath hitch in her throat and covered it with another kiss, her hand dipping down into the slick moisture between Lexa’s thighs. She was hot and wet and ready, moaning slightly as Clarke’s fingers danced slow, deliberate circles around her clit. There was no sense of urgency to her movements, instead they were filled with only tenderness, not even picking up speed as Lexa’s hips slowly canted upwards.

Lexa’s breath was hot on Clarke’s lips as she pulled back just a fraction of an inch. “Clarke,” she whispered, clicking over the –K in the way that sent butterflies soaring in Clarke’s stomach.

Clarke pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Lexa’s mouth, followed by another down her jaw until she made her way over to her ear, gently sucking the lobe between her lips and breathing out a trembling shaky breath. Lexa whimpered again at that, so softly that it sounded like a desperate plea as Clarke’s fingers circled painfully slow around her entrance before dipping just the tip of her middle finger inside. She felt Lexa’s walls clench, pulling her in further as she softly pushed in to her knuckle and gently pulled back out again. She repeated the motion, allowing her thumb to continue slow, soft, sweet patterns over Lexa’s clit.

“Clarke,” Lexa breathed again, her name sounding like a prayer.

“I’m here, baby,” Clarke whispered in her ear. The words were on the tip of her tongue, threating to spill over, struggling to break free and Clarke knew that there was no point in trying to contain them any longer. “I love you so much,” she whispered, heart skipping a beat when she heard Lexa’s sharp gasp.

She pulled back slightly to look down into Lexa’s green eyes and did not see surprise or fear, but instead complete and utter wonder, as if she couldn’t believe what she had heard. It was as if the words themselves had the power to tip Lexa over the edge, and Clarke felt her walls clench tightly around her fingers as she tumbled over the other side, her stomach and thighs clenching rigidly in response though she never once let her gaze stray from Clarke’s. Clarke’s slow, steady fingers continued softly even after Lexa’s release had retreated to nothing more than a few random spasms, and she leaned down to press her lips to the Commander’s once more, passionately and full of promise.

“I love you,” she whispered again, breath trembling against Lexa’s lips, needing her to hear the words another time so that she knew they were sincere.

Lexa blinked a few times, as if trying to wake herself from her dream, but she was already awake and this was real. Moisture pooled behind her emerald eyes, bright and glistening against the bouncing candle flame as the smallest of grins tugged up the corner of her mouth. Clarke watched as the smile slowly spread until Lexa was grinning wider than she had ever seen, a single solitary tear tracking its way slowly down her cheek. Her hand came up to frame Clarke’s jaw and she pulled her in gently, kissing her deeply and breathlessly, only breaking the kiss to grin against Clarke’s lips as the world around them ceased to turn.

“I love you, Clarke,” Lexa whispered in reply, the words soft yet confident on her lips as if the moment she said them, she knew that they had always been true. “And this is not weakness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom. Out.
> 
> Just kidding. Yeah, that just happened. I'm dying to know what you guys thought about the entire thing! Leave me comments and tell me what's up! How'd you like Luna? She's a secret badass in her own sort of unique way I suppose, but Lexa will always be the one and only Commander. We had a little fluff and a little smut and a little humor and angst and action, and this shit has literally consumed my life for the past week so I am going to go into actual hibernation now. Hope that I did the 'I love you' justice for all of you; it was probably the hardest scene to write in all of this, but at the same time it felt so natural. Back to Arkadia next week!
> 
> -Alex
> 
> P.S. Yes, there was intended irony in the fact that this section is entitled 'Thirteen' and we get the 'I love you' that we deserved here because well...fuck Jason.


	14. Part Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Sooo it's the holidays and I know we're used to me posting every Thursday or Friday, but with my crazy schedule coming up, I'm just gonna be posting whenever I get finished with the chapters, so expect an update every five or six days or so. This chapter is very conversation heavy and there's a lot going on, but it's sort of our last steps before we reach the badass finale I've got planned, so bare with me. I was a little hesitant writing this chapter the way I did at first because we're getting down to the wire here and I really want everything to be perfect, but after going through and reading it, I was actually happy with the way it turned it. So, enjoy and I'll see you at the end.
> 
> -Alex

Clarke awoke the next morning feeling as if she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Every moment, every event, every action that had taken place in the past few months had led her careening and crashing towards the undeniable realization that Lexa loved her. Lexa, the woman who made her heart beat faster and her hands tremble, and who gave her both peace and absolution; the woman who had saved her when she was sure that she was far beyond saving; that woman loved her. And she loved her back with every breath she breathed and with every single beat of her heart. She loved her back.

She had loved her for a long time, and part of her was sure that Lexa had too. Still, thinking it and saying it aloud were two very different things, and it gave her a feeling that she had never experienced before. It was like she had her eyes closed for her entire life and now she was seeing for the first time all the colors and life that the world had to offer, and Lexa was the one who showed it to her. In a world where every single day presented a new struggle to survive, a new danger, a new challenge, they had found each other: the girl who fell from the sky and the woman who ruled the ground. They had gone from enemies, to allies, to friends, to lovers, but there was one thing that Clarke was certain they had always been: soul mates.

With a smile on her face, she rolled over, searching through the piles of fur duvets for the warm body she had fallen asleep next to, but Lexa was nowhere to be found. Clarke listened to the sounds outside the tent, hearing the gentle lilt of nearby voices and the crackling of a fire mixed with the sounds of birds singing their morning melodies across the treetops. She breathed in the scent that the Commander had left on the pillow, enjoying the sweet smell of pine trees and candles and couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth.

She was about to contemplate rolling over and forcing herself from the warmth of the blankets around her when the flaps of the tent burst open and Lexa popped her head inside. The Commander was already dressed for the day, clad in her striking shoulder armor and regal red cape, wild brown hair falling over her shoulders in different strands of braids. Her cheeks were bright red from the cold outside, bare and lacking her black mask of war paint, but her eyes were bright and nearly glowing in the morning light. She hesitated a moment, seeing Clarke staring at her, before she shuffled further into the tent and let an easy grin tug up one side of her mouth. She had a single long-sword strapped to her waist, the hilt strung and decorated in crisscrossing leather, and she carried a plate of steaming food in her hands.

“Hello, Clarke of the Sky People,” she said, her voice soft and filled with reverence as she lowered herself to a kneeling position beside Clarke.

Clarke smiled at the formal greeting but decided to indulge her. “Hello, Commander,” she offered. “How long have you been up?”

“I have been on watch the last few hours,” Lexa replied. “I wanted you to have a warm meal when you woke,” she added, holding out the plate of cooked meat, a slice of bread and a bundle of succulent green grapes.

Clarke felt a wave of warmth flush through her veins, the tenderness and care in which Lexa treated her, even with the simplest of gestures like a hidden touch or bringing her breakfast in bed, never ceased to amaze her. ‘Thank you,” she replied, taking the plate in her hands and popping a grape into her mouth. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked.

“You needed to rest, Clarke,” Lexa answered, her features softening just a little bit more with the tenderness that she gave only to one person. “And I am more than capable of ensuring our safety whilst you sleep.”

“I don’t doubt that, dork,” Clarke laughed. “I just would have kept you company.”

Lexa’s delicate fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. “As much as I crave and thirst for your company, you needed to rest,” she said. “And it would have been selfish of me to deprive you of that. Now, eat and dress warm, Clarke. We should not linger here longer than necessary.”

Clarke eyed her curiously with a raise of her brow as Lexa leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before rising and turning slowly away. Clarke reached out and clasped a hand around her wrist before she could get to far, pulling her back in. “I meant what I said last night,” she whispered as their gazes met. “Every word of it. I do love you, Lexa,” she said, hearing the sincerity in her own voice.

Lexa blinked rapidly, as if the words caught her off guard once more, but the smile that spread slowly over her impassive features set Clarke’s blood pounding heavily in her ears as her heartbeat thrummed and skipped. “And I love you, Clarke,” she replied, framing her face with trembling hands and pushing their lips together before rising to leave once more.

She ducked out of the tent, disappearing into the white morning light that streamed in through the breaks in the flaps until she pulled them shut behind her. Clarke was left staring after her, lost in a daze of bliss and lust for a good five minutes before she shook herself out of it and wolfed down the platter of food. She was eager to dress for the day and get their travels underway, made uneasy by the thought that Ice Nation had undoubtedly discovered the trail of bodies they had left behind and were out searching for them at that very moment. The sooner they made it back to Arkadia, the sooner they could bolster their defenses and prepare for the unavoidable onslaught of the _Azgeda_ alliance that was edging closer to them with each passing day.

Clarke stood, feeling the stiffness of her muscles pulling tightly in the morning cold as her joints popped and ached from the long hours they’d spent in the saddle over the past few days. She pulled on her tight fitting pants and shoved into her boots before standing and slipping a long sleeved shirt over head followed by the heavy fur lined Grounder coat that she had grown so accustomed to. The only part of her wardrobe that was her own was the gun that she strapped across her waist, her appearance Grounder in nature, but the weapon at her side a constant reminder of where she had come from. She had forsaken her _Skaikru_ clothes in favor of comfort and warmth and was happy to be a healthy blend of both sky and ground as she pulled her hair into a braid and pushed out of the tent to follow after Lexa.

She froze in her tracks, instantly blinded by the glare of bright white that coated the world around her, crunching softly beneath her feet. She looked up to the grey sky above, feeling the sharp cold of light flakes falling onto her skin and melting instantly. The tall pine trees were blanketed in thick sheets of white, hanging heavily on the branches as they held strongly beneath the weight of the snow. Her boots sunk down a few inches deep as she took a step forward, glancing up and seeing Lexa locked in conversation with Lincoln and Luna and laughing quietly.

Her cheeks were blushed a bright shade of red, her slight smile as white as the snow around them and her emerald eyes glowing the brightest shade of green that Clarke had ever seen. She held one hand in her pocket and rested the other one loosely on the hilt of her sword as she stood within the range of a popping fire, the dirt around it free of snow that melted away to nothing in the ring of heat. Flakes clung to Lexa’s hair, glistening in the morning light as she talked with her childhood friends and the sight of the easy grin on her face was enough to melt Clarke’s heart despite the frigid temperature. Octavia sat on a log in front of the fire, holding her hands out in front of her as she pulled her cloak tighter around her shivering muscles, an expression of what could only be described as misery on her face. There was a swollen black bruise beneath her eye from where the Ice Nation warrior had cracked her across the face the day before, but it only added to her fierceness and beauty.

“You okay, O?” Clarke asked, allowing her hand to briefly brush over Lexa’s arm as she passed her, feeling the need for contact before sitting down beside Octavia.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen snow, and I would not be disappointed if it was the last,” she grumbled.

Clarke smiled, wrapping her arm around the other girl’s shoulder and rubbing up and down to create friction and warmth. “Be thankful we don’t live in Ice Nation,” she mused.

Octavia huffed. “I can see why Nia is a genocidal maniac. I’d go crazy if I had to freeze my ass off year round too.”

“I don’t think Nia is crazy,” Clarke replied. “Just a cold-hearted bitch.”

“Well that makes sense too,” Octavia laughed.

The girls watched in silence as Lexa’s guards moved to dissemble their makeshift camp, breaking down the tents and repacking their horses. The entire routine took no more than five minutes, the group well adjusted by now, and Clarke and Octavia held their hands out in front of them, drawing every last bit of warmth from the fire that they could before Lincoln moved to kicked mounds of snow over it, effectively snuffing it out. They mounted their horses, climbing into the saddles and adjusting their postures for the long grueling ride home. Clarke cast one last backwards glance over her shoulder as they rode away from the empty clearing, wondering how a place of such little significance would forever mean more to her than she could ever describe.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Arkadia filtered into view through the breaks in the trees a little after noon, the sun hanging high in the sky overhead though obscured by an ominous grey cloud cover. Clarke knew they were close to the _Skaikru_ camp miles before, glancing up into the trees every now and then and spotting the concealed faces of Coalition archers watching their approach. She never would have noticed them months before when they had first arrived on the ground, but the weeks of perilous danger and her heightened senses gave her a new range of alertness, picking out the subtle shifts and changes in the trees above that would have otherwise been invisible. It gave her comfort knowing that despite the approaching threat of the vast Ice Nation army, their people were preparing themselves diligently. 

As they emerged from the trees, Clarke felt her breath hitch in her throat. The Arkadia they had left behind nearly five days ago was no longer in sight, instead replaced by a sprawling network of ingenuity and solid defenses. The metal wall, which normally surrounded Arkadia, had been pushed back several hundred feet, encompassing dozens upon dozens of Grounder tents in the new courtyard. The large steel panels were still under construction in some areas, loud clangs reverberating off the trees around them as people worked to erect what looked like several tall guard towers. The farmland that had previously been tilled and planted was nowhere in sight, having been completely covered by bolstering Grounder reinforcements that had arrived from the other clans sometime within the last few days. Grounder weapon smiths were hard at work, pounding new weapons into shape, red and molten hot against anvils while hundreds of warriors ran practice drills, sparring, fighting, and shooting arrows and spears into wooden targets. 

Clarke was surprised to see multiple faces she recognized, her own people, practicing alongside the Grounder warriors as they attempted to wield swords and bows, learning the ways of the other culture in order to defend their loved ones. She knew that there would not be enough guns for each member of _Skaikru_ , but she had not expected them to take up other weapons, and felt a wave of pride wash through her knowing that they would not sit back behind their high walls and let the Grounders die for them. It was an inspiring sight seeing Grounder and Sky People work beside each other rather than against each other, coming together to defeat a common enemy and fight for a lasting peace.

She spared a glance towards Lexa, trying to measure the Commander’s reaction with her own, and found her face impassive though her green eyes were flashing with a pride of her own. Lexa felt Clarke’s eyes on her and looked over, offering her a single nod and slight smile, equally impressed with the companionship and craftsmanship that had been assembled despite her absence. The commotion drew to a standstill as they approached, the bustling people putting their duties on hold to get a glimpse of the Commander as she passed by. Many of them offered nods and bows of respect while others reached out to simply put a hand on Lexa’s knee or brush their fingers over the flanks of her majestic steed. Despite the fall of the Coalition, it was clear that respect for the Commander still ran deep amongst the warriors of the clans that were loyal to her, all of which were ready to fight and die by her side.

Lexa kept her eyes trained forward and her shoulders square as they moved through the narrow spaces between the sprawling city of tents, looking regal and commanding in her saddle with her red cape flowing behind her. She appeared strong and confident, unaffected by the impending danger and lending strength to her people just by her presence alone. The crowds that followed them chanted and cheered Lexa’s name, energized by her appearance as excitement buzzed like electricity through the air. It never ceased to amaze Clarke the effect that the Commander had on her people and the love and devotion in which they showed her, all but worshiping the ground she walked on. 

They reached the gates of Arkadia, and for the first time ever, found them standing wide open, welcoming the hordes of both Grounders and Sky People that passed through them as they carried supplies and food and walked alongside each other locked in conversation. To the right, there was a dozen bonfires, lit and crackling with heat as carcasses from deer and boar turned on spits over the flame, roasting and sending thick scents of meat wafting through the air. It was clear that some sort of hunting and cooking system had been set up in order to feed the masses of people, keeping them healthy and strong despite the cold snow that clung to the ground around them. Clarke had worried how her people would stay fed through the winter, but the sight instantly put her fears at ease. There were tents all around them, housing a large portion of the Grounder army, and in front of them Clarke could make out the massive command tent that was uniquely and undoubtedly Lexa’s, shielded safely inside the heavy metal walls. 

Beyond Lexa’s tent stood the Ark itself, large and metal and looming, looking relatively out of place amongst the sea of makeshift Grounder shelters. People flitted in and out of the doors, disappearing into the darkness that concealed them from view as they rushed to prepare for the coming battle. As they approached, Titus emerged to greet them, ever impassive, his expression blank though his brown eyes settled heavily on Lexa. Raven appeared behind the Flamekeeper, her eyes lighting up as she caught sight of Clarke and the barrels of oil strapped to their horses’ backs. Beside her Bellamy shuffled into view, his expression flooding with relief beneath shaggy brown hair as his gaze fell on their group, but then his posture instantly went rigid as he took in his sister’s appearance and the deep discolored bruise on her cheek.

They dismounted their horses, their muscles popping in stiff protest both from the cold and from disuse, as they slid to the ground and sunk into the several inches of snow at their feet. Clarke watched as Titus’s gaze shifted from Lexa and then to Luna behind her, something dark and full of malice settling in his posture like the weight of anger and betrayal clinging to his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as Raven shoved past him, limping towards Clarke and Octavia in her familiar orange jacket and knee brace. She threw her arms around her friends, clearly relieved by their safe return. Bellamy reached them a moment later, taking hold of his sister and yanking her into a protective embrace, his jaw clenching as if he feared he would never see her again.

“Took you idiots long enough,” Raven grumbled, pulling Clarke into a tight hug. 

“Good to see you too,” Octavia replied, letting her older brother go so that he could pull Clarke into an equally protective hug.

“Commander,” Raven said, pushing Clarke away and holding her hand out to Lexa in a show of respect. Lexa took the mechanic’s wrist and grasped it gently, returning the gesture. “Who’s the new girl?” she asked, motioning towards where Luna was standing at ease by Lexa’s side.

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but Titus quickly cut her off. “Her name is Luna, and she should not be here, Heda,” he spit, answering Raven’s question but addressing Lexa as he strode towards them.

“Luna has generously supplied us with the oil that Raven requires and has offered to stand with us in our fight against _Azgeda_ ,” Lexa answered, tone not to be questioned. “And you will respect her as you respect me, _Fleimkepa_.” 

Titus’s face flushed red, his jaw clenching tightly as he attempted to bite back his anger, but it was Luna who stepped forward and spoke next. “I know you do not trust me, Titus,” she said, her brown eyes sincere beneath her wild mane of hair. “But I am here to provide what aid I can.”

“I doubt you are here for any reason that does not benefit yourself or your people,” Titus growled.

“Titus,” Lexa sighed, her tone soft yet resolute. “Sometimes we must forget the past, accept and acknowledge the present, and look forward to the future. You are the one who taught us that, and that is what we must do now.”

Titus sighed, his eyes flashing back and forth between his two former novitiates and Clarke found herself stepping forward, placing a gentle hand on the Flamekeeper’s arm. “She already fought by Lexa’s side once,” she said, keeping her voice low. She didn’t know when, but she had come to respect the older man in the past few weeks, and she thought that the feeling might have been mutual.

The Flamekeeper’s expression faltered, unsettled as he glanced down at where Clarke clutched his arm and gently tugged it free before lowering his voice. “You were attacked?” he questioned, looking towards his Heda.

“Yes,” Lexa replied. “They knew we were not in Arkadia. We are being watched,” she cautioned, glancing around at the hundreds of tents and thousands of faces that surrounded them, any one of which could have easily been a spy.

Titus looked at Luna again, his expression settling cold behind the deep wrinkles that framed his eyes. “Very well,” he grumbled. “We should get inside and avoid any further prying eyes.”

“Hold up,” Raven said, halting them in their tracks. “So did you get the goods or what? Because my brain is just exploding with ideas on how to make shit go boom,” she deadpanned.

Clarke rolled her eyes at the pun. “Yes, Raven,” she sighed, exasperated. “Luna provided us with enough oil to blow up Mount Weather a second time.”

Raven pumped her fist, not attempting to hide her excitement. “I like her already, Clarke!” she smiled, limping over to the nearest horse and attempting to unstrap the barrel from its back.

“We’ll help her,” Bellamy said, looking slightly horrified by the thought of giving Raven enough flammable material to blow up a mountain. Octavia followed him, scooping up a wad of snow in her hand and pressing it into a ball before slapping it over Raven’s head. A snowball fight immediately broke out and Clarke again rolled her eyes, watching as Lexa ducked her head to avoid a flying projectile ball of snow that she was almost positive Raven had aimed at the Commander with intent.

“Titus,” Lexa said, ignoring the surrounding commotion. “Has Aden’s condition changed?” she asked, skipping straight to the most pressing order of business. 

As if on key, Abby appeared in the doorway behind them, her brow furrowed as she squinted in the sunlight glaring off the snow, but then shifting instantly to relief as she caught sight of Clarke. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around her daughter and pulling her into a tight embrace, squeezing so tightly that Clarke thought she might suffocate. She breathed in the scent of her mother, enjoying the way that she always smelled like sterile soap mixed with faint lavender that clung to her hair. To her surprise, when she pulled away, there were tears in her mother’s eyes, and she watched in complete shock as Abby turned to Lexa and tugged her into an embrace of her own. Lexa stood awkwardly, stiff in the doctor’s arms for a moment before relaxing just slightly and returning the embrace with a single arm, her green eyes wide in disbelief as they met Clarke’s gaze over Abby’s shoulder.

“Mom?” Clarke asked, instantly alarmed at the odd behavior and fearing the worst. Perhaps she was only hugging the Commander out of pity, carrying with her the worst of news. “What’s wrong?”

Abby pulled away from Lexa and returned to her daughter, placing both hands on her shoulders so that she could scan her body up and down in search of injuries. “Nothing, sweetie,” she replied. “I’m just happy that you’re safe. Everything is so uncertain right now. Thank you,” she said, turning to Lexa now. “For bringing my daughter back to me again.”

Lexa nodded once, her face impassive, though Clarke didn’t miss the slight smile that tugged up the edge of her mouth. “Your daughter was the one who saved me this time, Doctor Griffin,” Lexa explained. Titus’s eyes went wide at that, shooting towards where Clarke stood bashfully, feeling her cheeks flush red.

“Then I am happy that you two are there to look after each other,” Abby replied with an edge of hopefulness in her voice.

“Mom,” Clarke interrupted, feeling the need to move on to more pressing matters. “How’s Aden?” she asked.

Abby’s eyes were thoughtful for a moment as she turned her gaze towards Lexa who was staring at her intently, attempting to hide the nerves behind her stone features. “We were able to put a plate over the burr hole in his skull and suture the wound closed while he was still unconscious,” she began. Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, worried that they might have had to perform the second surgery while Aden was awake due to their lack of anesthetic. “He woke up yesterday,” she continued on. “He suffered a bit of short term memory loss and was really confused when he regained consciousness, but Titus was here to put him at ease. From what we can tell, he suffered no long term brain damage, but he’s got a long road to recovery ahead of him.”

Lexa looked towards Clarke, raising her eyebrow in question as if waiting for a second explanation. “He’s going to be okay,” Clarke whispered, assuring her with a gentle smile.

The Commander’s eyes flashed and she blinked quickly, trying to hide the relief that flooded through them. “May I see him?” Lexa asked, directing the question towards Abby.

“Of course,” Abby answered, motioning them towards the medbay.

“I will show Luna around Arkadia,” Lincoln suggested, knowing that they would require a few minutes of privacy.

They all knew there was much to be discussed and that they would need to be updated on the progress of Arkadia’s defenses and the events that had occurred in their absence, but at that moment all that mattered was knowing that Aden was okay. They could put their never-ending duties on hold for just a while longer, both of them feeling the overwhelming need to see the boy that each of them cared for. Abby gave Lexa’s shoulder one last squeeze before turning and leading them into the Ark, the bright buzzing lights providing little contrast to the white snow outside, both of which leaving searing dark circles popping behind Clarke’s eyes.

The inside of the medical facility was nearly unrecognizable, and Abby had kept good on her word to expand it. The doors along the hallway stood open and what were once small dormitories and supply closets had been turned into various rooms to house incoming patients; they were all empty now, but Clarke had no doubts that the beds would soon be full. Some of the larger rooms held multiple beds so that multiple patients could be seen to and as they passed by one, Clarke was surprised to see Jackson inside with a group of intent looking Grounders. He was demonstrating the basics of CPR on a volunteer, and what Clarke assumed were the healers from various clans were paying close attention. The collaboration and cooperation warmed her heart and she was truly impressed and humbled by how far their two people had come together in the days that they'd been gone. They were living proof that no matter how different two people seemed, they could find common ground and stand united against a greater enemy. The lines between sky and ground were muddled, and she wondered just how far they'd blur in the coming days.

They wandered the halls of a place they no longer recognized; a place that had clearly evolved and adapted to survive and again Clarke was reminded that as much as she wanted life to be about more than just surviving, surviving was their only focus at that moment. However, the way Lexa took her hand as they neared Aden's room and the warm feeling of sparks shooting over the surface of her skin where their fingers met had her immediately believing otherwise. Life these next few days was certainly about surviving, but it was more than that now. It was surviving for each other, living so that they could live life together, and loving each other as much as they could with what time they had. Clarke gave the hand in hers a gentle squeeze, willing her to know that she was there, and that they both had a reason to fight.

Abby and Titus walked in front of them, only taking notice of their joined hands when they came to a stop just outside Aden's door. Abby looked at the gesture with hope, allowing a small smile to light her features before giving them a single nod, while Titus surveyed them with disdain though his disapproval no longer quite reached his eyes. They made no attempt to release their hold or hide their affections; they were far beyond that, and in that moment they needed to draw strength from each other. That is what love was after all. Clarke could feel how clammy Lexa's palm had grown in hers, nerves shaking in the way her fingers trembled, and Clarke's own heart was all but jumping out of her chest when Abby pushed the door open and stood aside for them to enter.

Clarke took the first step, sensing Lexa's hesitation, and gently pulled the Commander into the room as the doctor shut the door behind them. Aden was asleep in his bed, his head still heavily bandaged with shaggy blonde hair poking out from beneath. There were still dark bruises around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose, deep black and fading to a lighter shade of grey towards the edges and looking as if they had begun to heal. His damaged arm was strapped tightly to his chest, keeping it immobile so that the frayed tissue beneath could start to mend itself together. Clarke knew that the recovery of his arm would be the biggest struggle to come and that it would take countless hours of practice and physical therapy to regain the range of motion in it that he once had. She knew that it would take months, if not years, to fully heal but if anyone had the strength, resilience, and determination to overcome adversity, it was Aden. 

She was surprised at how much the boy had come to mean to her in so little time. His words of wisdom far beyond his years and his playful charm had easily won her over, but it was the way that he cared for Lexa and the way she softened when she was around him that made her heart melt. The hardened Commander, the girl who had been taught that love was weakness, had loved this boy long before she had ever loved Clarke, and that is what made him so special. She heard Lexa exhale a shaky breath as they reached Aden's bedside, reaching down and gently scooping the boy's free hand in her own.

He stirred immediately, one blue eye cracking open and appearing vibrantly against the contrast of the blackened and bruised skin that surrounded it, like a flash of lightning against a dark thundering storm. "Lexa?" he whispered, voice hoarse from disuse but strong nonetheless. His other eye popped open when he noticed Clarke and he made a slight attempt to raise his head.

"Don't try to move just yet," Clarke said, placing a light hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Heda," Aden said, addressing Lexa again. "I'm so sorry."

Clarke spared a glance at the Commander and was surprised by the sight of tears pooling behind Lexa's green eyes, her jaw was clenched in determination and working its way back and forth, adamant in her refusal to let them fall. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Aden," she assured him, her tone resolute even as she struggled to maintain her impassive expression. Clarke wondered why she was trying so hard to put up her walls in that moment; she was alone with people that she loved, there was no reason for her to wear the mask that turned her from Lexa to the Commander. Then she realized that it was a defense mechanism, the only way that Lexa knew how to cope with situations that she could not bare on her own.

"I could not protect the other novitiates," Aden whispered; regret ringing prominently in his young voice. "I tried, but there were just too many of them."

That was all that it took to send the walls crumbling and crashing down, and Clarke watched as Lexa's expression twisted to one of unhindered pain, her brows knitting together as a single tear escaped and fell from her chin. "That failure was mine and mine alone, Aden," Lexa replied with strength despite the obvious agony she was feeling rip through her tumultuous emotions. "It was my duty to ensure your safety and the safety of my novitiates and I failed. If Clarke had not been there, I would have lost you too."

There was moisture clouding Aden’s blue eyes and he wore a look of disbelief as he watched his stoic Commander unravel before him. “Lexa,” he choked, wincing in pain as he struggled to sit up and giving up when Clarke gently held him down again. “Your duty was to teach us and to train us so that we may one day lead in your stead. You did not fail in that. The novitiates fought and protected one another down to the very last. You would have been proud.”

“I am proud,” Lexa replied, trying desperately to harden her nerves. “As long as you live, my legacy lives, and I could not be more proud of you, Aden. You are my legacy.”

“Peace will be your legacy,” Clarke interjected, feeling the need to be heard. “And neither of you failed in your duties. Nia did this. Ice Nation is responsible. And they will pay.”

Aden let his gaze drift to Clarke, softening as if he’d just taken notice of her for the first time since they’d entered the room. “The Ice Nation girl,” he spoke. “Ontari—

“She’s mine,” Lexa snapped, steel immediately settling over her features. “I will kill her.” The threat seemed to darken the room around them and Clarke knew that it was not idle; the _Azgeda_ Nightblood would die at the end of Lexa’s sword, just like their prince.

“She did this to me?” Aden asked.

“Yes,” Clarke replied solemnly.

He nodded once. “Titus told me that the Coalition has fallen. That Ice Nation will soon march on Arkadia?”

“Yes,” it was Lexa who answered this time, her shoulders stiff with the admission as if tensing beneath the weight of it.

“Then what are you two doing in here?” Aden asked. “I am fine, Lexa. You should be preparing for battle and coming up with a strategy.”

“We’re working on it,” Clarke assured him. “We needed to know that you were okay.”

“I will be,” he replied, his tone strong and demanding belief. “Once this threat has been dealt with. Our people come first, we can worry about me later.”

Lexa smiled at that, pride beaming brightly behind her grin. “You are right, _Strik Heda_ ,” she said, referring to him as ‘Little Commander’ in _Trigedasleng_. “Clarke and I will deal with Ice Nation. You just rest. Heal.”

“Do you need anything?” Clarke asked, running her hand down the length of his arm in a way that her mother used to do for her as a child. For some reason this kid had changed her, and along the way he had become her own, a younger sibling, part of her family.

“No, Clarke, I am content for now. Your people have been very accommodating,” he answered, leaning back against his pillow and trying to hide a yawn that had snuck up on him. “Your mother is the healer?” he asked.

“Yes,” Clarke nodded.

“I like her. She is very kind, Clarke. I see where you get it from,” he said with a small smile.

Clarke felt a pang of sadness. “Actually, people say I am much more like my father,” she answered.

“Aden,” Lexa interrupted, trying to draw attention away from the topic that she knew would cause Clarke pain. “Why don’t you get some rest? Clarke and I will come back later.”

The boy didn’t have a chance to reply as Titus swooped into the room, his grey roes billowing behind him. “Heda, forgive me,” he said. “The _Skaikru_ council is calling a meeting so that we may discuss the progress of our preparations.”

“Very well,” Lexa replied, acknowledging him once and dismissing him with a flourish of her hand. “Aden, sleep. Rest. Heal,” she commanded her young and only novitiate.

“We’ll see you later,” Clarke offered him a smile before bending down and pressing a slight kiss to his bandaged forehead.

He grinned up at her, eyes blurry with sleep as he shifted lower in his bed. He was sound asleep before they even reached the door, each of them casting one last glance backwards before sweeping out of the room. Titus was waiting for them in the hall, leading them out of the Ark entirely instead of to the room they once occupied for council meetings. Clarke figured it must have been converted into another medical bay or perhaps even lodging and housing for some of the Grounder healers. They followed him instead to Lexa’s command tent that stood at the center of the courtyard behind the high Arkadia walls, ducking through the flaps and finding the entire _Skaikru_ council waiting for them along with Luna and Lincoln.

They had not changed much within the tent, though the table that they normally used to take meals was situated at the center of the room where the daybed once was, now covered in various papers and blueprints. Raven and Sinclair stood at the head of the table, pointing to various sketches on the plans in front of them and scribbling out different calculations as they argued amongst themselves. They spoke loud enough for the group to hear, but Clarke could tell that they might as well have been speaking a different language judging by the blank stares on the council’s faces. Bellamy stood at Raven’s side, trying his best to follow along but the flush in his cheeks and the way he rubbed at the back of his neck betrayed his confusion.

Abby and Marcus watched from the other side of the table, whispering to themselves and laughing at some hidden joke that Kane muttered in the doctor’s ear as he draped his arm around her shoulders. Octavia sat on the daybed where it had been relocated to the side of the room, talking quietly in hushed tones to Charles Pike who sat beside her. The older man had forsaken his tight fitting white shirt for a long Grounder jacket, fur lined to protect against the snow and hanging open to reveal a plain black shirt and cargo pants. Like Clarke and Octavia, his outfit was a hybrid combination of Grounder and _Skaikru_ and Clarke thought that it suited him nicely, making him look both threatening and authoritative.

Lincoln and Luna stood together at the other side of the room, watching the group intently and regarding Lexa and Clarke with single nods as they swept into the room. It took the others a moment to register their presence, only falling silent when Titus cleared his throat, and then turning their eyes towards where Lexa and Clarke stood. They moved to the other head of the table, taking their rightful places as the mutual leaders they had established themselves to be. The combination of their leadership reflected the collaboration of their two people, much like their relationship reflected the blend of sky and ground that had rooted itself in each of their hearts. In the past few months, they had grown together, learning not only to trust one another, but to depend on one another, and it was together that they would beat the immeasurable danger that threatened their people.

Abby cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly, feeling the attention in the room shift heavily towards her. "I think we have to apologize for commandeering your tent, Commander," she said, fixating her eyes on Lexa. "Our council chambers have been converted to sleeping quarters for the clan healers, and Titus assured us that you would prefer to meet in here anyway."

The Commander nodded and Clarke could see the way her posture stiffened in the light of the smoldering fires and burning candles that lit the room. The soft girl that had been in tears and crumbled beneath the weight of regret in the medical bay only moments before was gone, replaced by the stoic and calculating woman that carried wisdom in her eyes and strength in her voice. "This tent has held war council for four wars before this one, and four wars we have won. I do not intend to break from tradition now," she assured them, letting her gaze fall on each person in the room as if lending them courage through a single glance alone. She stopped when her gaze landed on Luna, motioning for her to come forward. "For those of you that do not yet know," she said. "This is Luna, leader of _Floudonkru_ , the Boat People. She is a _trusted_ friend and ally," as added, throwing emphasis on the word 'trust' to make it clear to Titus that she would not be questioned on the matter again.

"Thank you for being here with us, Luna," Kane said sincerely and offering the woman a slight bow of respect. "If there is anything you should need, we will happily accommodate you."

"I only want peace for my people," Luna replied. "Same as the Commander."

"We _all_ want that," Clarke added, receiving nods and mumbles of agreement from her fellow leaders. "Luna has provided us with the oil that Raven requested to fuel the rovers and maybe build some explosives. How are the rest of the defenses coming?" Clarke asked. "What's been done and what still needs to be taken care of?"

Raven looked up, her brown eyes alight with excitement when she realized that the floor was hers. "Well, the oil you brought us is just that; it's oil. It's crude. Still needs to be refined before we can use it for anything," she explained. "Lucky for you guys Sinclair and I are smart as fuck and we already worked out a way to refine the oil through fractional distillation."

"Raven," Bellamy interjected. He wore his guard uniform, his broad shoulders standing out prominently beneath the thin layer of black and grey silicon armor. "Can you please speak English for the sake of everyone here who isn't a rocket scientist."

"Right," Raven agreed. "Fractional distillation is where we separate the different products of the crude oil by heating the mixture to its various boiling points. At these points, the different compounds will turn to vapor that we can collect and return to a liquid state after it cools. You following me, Bellboy?" she asked, but didn't bother to pause. "Once we've separated out the mixture, we will be left with ethanol gasoline to fuel the rovers, kerosene for explosives, and a whole fuckton of tar."

"And I assume you have plans to use all of those?" Clarke questioned though she already knew the answer. It was Raven she was speaking to after all.

"You bet your sweet ass I do," the other girl answered, shooting her a wink.

Lexa watched the exchange curiously, keeping her face blank despite the slight glint of amusement in the green of her eyes. "Do you have anything to add, Sinclair?" she asked.

"Well, the gasoline will obviously fuel the rovers, but it can also be used as an accelerant if we want to utilize flaming arrows for your warriors," he stated. "The kerosene mixed with a bit of gunpowder will create some very high-powered explosives. We can build detonators and set charges wherever you deem fit. As for the tar, I would suggest heating it to its melting point and pouring it over any of the Ice Nation army that make it to the wall. That was its use in medieval times and it can serve the same purpose here to keep the enemy away from our gates."

"Pft," Raven scoffed. "I was going to suggest that we use it to tar and feather the Ice Bitch."

"That's not a bad idea," Octavia supplied with a wicked smile from her spot beside Pike. Her cheek was swollen black and purple from the shot she took the day before but her posture was confident and proud as if sporting the shiner like a trophy.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "Not helping, O," he stated. 

"What about the rest of our defenses?" Clarke quickly asked before the conversation could stray further off topic. She noted that Luna looked completely confused by the interactions, Lexa looked rather bored and slowly losing patience and Titus appeared to barely be holding his tongue, his face bright red in anguish as if he was two seconds from exploding. She knew that this was not at all how Grounder councils were run. "Where are we at in terms of progress?"

"Well," Abby said, reining in the others and casting them both warning glances. "As you noticed, the medbay has been converted to a medical wing and Jackson and I are offering the clan healers some crash courses in emergency medical aid. In turn, they have provided us with the knowledge of how to make some very useful herbal medications such as a few natural painkillers and anti-coagulants. It has been a mutually beneficial endeavor thus far," she explained.

Lexa gave her curt nod of approval. "That will be imperative when the fighting starts," she said. Clarke caught the slight change in her tone and posture, as if the weight of the unavoidable deaths to come was already bearing down on her, but the moment was gone as quickly as it had come as Lexa took a breath and steadied herself.

"What else?" Clarke asked, feeling the need to move away from the subject of wounded or dead warriors.

"Kane and I have been working on putting together a sharp shooter team and training some of the others how to shoot," Bellamy supplied. "The Grounders won't touch our guns, but a lot of our people have been practicing with them on bow skills and hand to hand combat. I doubt any of ours will be fighting with a sword and spear in battle, but it'll definitely be useful to stick some archers up on the wall with the gunners and up in the taller trees around Arkadia."

Clarke nodded her agreement. "And where are we on ammo?"

"We've half loaded all of the ammunition and made double the rounds," Kane returned. "The bullets won't fire as hard but they'll still get the job done. Raven and Sinclair also spent time reinforcing the rovers so they can handle a bit of impact damage."

"Good," Clarke said. "This is all good stuff."

"The wall," it was Pike who spoke next. "We've pushed it back as far as we can and are working on finishing the rest of the towers and the platform across the top. It should be finished by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. We've also moved as many of the Grounder tents behind it as possible, though I would like to be able to get in a few more. I know most of the fighting will take place outside the wall, so we have concealed a few tunnels out the back to allow entry and exit during battle and so that we can get our wounded back inside. That was Lincoln's idea," he smiled, offering the younger man credit.

Lincoln shrugged. "Actually, it was Bellamy's. Before our two people came together, he and the Hundred used a similar tactic to defend their drop ship from Anya's forces. It worked well then, and it should work well now."

Clarke felt a pang of guilt and pain at the mention of Anya's name and glanced over to see the same pain echoed in Lexa's solemn features, the corners of her plump lips slightly turned down. Lexa's former mentor was just another name to add to the list of people they'd lost in the never-ending quest for peace. Her death had been at the hands of _Skaikru_ , many Grounder deaths had, and many members of Skaikru had died at the end of Grounder swords and spears. That was why it was imperative that they finally found their peace, so that no more mentors and friends, family and lovers, had to die for the backwards ideal the blood demanded blood.

Pike noticed the tension in the air and quickly continued on, rising from his seat beside Octavia. "Your people have also been working alongside some of ours, teaching us how to hunt and set snares. I've had conversations with a few of the farmers from the Valley People, sharing our knowledge of crops and what is best to plant during the different harvest seasons," he said, taking three steps towards Lexa and closing the distance between them. He held out his hand, offering it to her with humble respect. "I owe you an apology, Commander," he added, his tone just a bit softer.

Lexa took his wrist against her own, clasping it firmly without hesitation as the rest of the room watched them curiously. "You have done nothing that warrants an apology, Charles Pike," Lexa replied, arching a perfect brow in question.

"I have," he answered quickly. "I judged you and your people. I thought that you were savages, blood thirsty and violent, and being led by a child. But I was very wrong. I think we all were," he said, using his hands to encompass the rest of the council and earning nods of agreement from the others. "Your people are not so different than ours. We are no less violent, and no more civilized, and at the end of the day, what makes us the same is that we are all just trying to survive. And you," he paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Your people love you. They only ever speak of you in the highest regard and it is clear that each and every one of them would give their life for you, and I do not think that I'm mistaken in believing you would do the same. You're a good leader, Commander, and I will stand by your side when the time comes."

"And I by yours," Lexa replied, squaring her shoulders and looking as regal as ever beneath the frame of her shoulder armor. Clarke couldn't help the pride that bubbled in her chest at both her people and the woman she loved, both having come a long way from where they began. Lexa released his wrist and turned to the rest of the group. "It appears that we have our defenses covered," she said. "Perhaps it is time that we started thinking about our plan of attack."

"I have an idea," Clarke spoke, confidence and a bit of trepidation inching its way into her tone. "One that's worked for us before," she added, throwing a glance towards Raven who was watching her intently. "When Anya's three hundred warriors were marching on the drop ship, we hulled up inside and drew them in, then used the thruster blast to..." she hesitated as she struggled to find her words, deciding that leaving it at that was enough. _'So, you're the one who burned three hundred of my warriors alive,'_ she recalled the words Lexa had said the first time that they met and she knew the Commander was aware of the circumstances surrounding her warrior's deaths.

Clarke cleared her throat, pushing the images of the burnt and charred bodies from her mind and trying desperately not to recall the smell of charcoal flesh. "Anyway," she rasped as she swallowed thickly. "Pike, you said that you wished we could get more of the Grounder tents behind our walls, but I propose that we leave them out there. When the time comes, move our forces behind the walls, but use the empty tents and perhaps some small campfires to lure Nia's forces in, then Raven and Sinclair can rig the explosives to blow once the Ice Nation army is in range," she finished.

"Why would they charge on an empty campsite, Clarke?" Bellamy asked.

"Nia's forces will undoubtedly attack in the dead of night or just before dawn," Lexa said, eyes scanning briskly over the blueprints in front of her as if picturing the battle in her head. "They will try to use the element of surprise and the dark to conceal their troops."

Titus nodded, coming forward for the first time since the start of the meeting to offer his advice. "Heda is right," he interjected. "An empty campsite late at night or just before sunrise would not be unexpected. They will think we are sleeping. If we leave a few campfires burning and perhaps some meat cooking, it should be enough to draw them in."

"So, Raven will rig the tents to go boom. Then what?" Octavia asked.

"They'll likely charge the gates," Lexa answered, her lethal jawline clenching and unclenching as she mulled over her thoughts. "Our archers and gunners atop the wall can pick them off, but there will be too many. We'll have to open the gates and meet them in combat. We will have warriors and archers in the trees to take care of any that move to flee or flank us, and then we can use our cavalry and rovers to move around behind their forces. We will surround them from all sides," she finished.

"Their numbers will count for nothing if we cause enough confusion," Luna added, lending her support to her Commander.

Abby smiled, looking more hopeful in that moment than Clarke had seen since she'd set foot on the ground. "This is a good plan," she said.

Lexa was somber when she looked up from the blueprints and maps on the table in front of them, her green eyes flashing. "Plans rarely last long in battle, Abby," she said. "I fear our efforts will not be enough."

"Heda speaks the truth," Lincoln chimed in. "Their numbers are too great. It will be impossible to cripple their army, especially with other clans lending them their warriors."

"We must seek a way to end the war without winning the battle," the Commander said, her tone thoughtful and Clarke could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes. "We have to kill Nia," she decided. "Without her, the other clan leaders will withdraw their support and Ice Nation will be leaderless."

"Cut off the head of the snake," Clarke agreed. Nia was the cause of the Coalition's undoing and the perpetrator of this war. She had caused the death of dozens of _Skaikru_ and commanded the slaughter of Lexa's novitiates. As long as she lived, the idea of peace would be obsolete.

"Really, Clarke?" Raven interrupted, her expression laced with a mischievous grin. "You think Nia's spirit animal is a snake? I was definitely thinking more along the lines of a skunk or like maybe a small rat."

"Raven!" the entire group yelled in unison, including one extra red Titus steaming with fury.

The girl held up her hands in surrender, trying and failing to choke back her laughter. "Okay, okay. So, how do we kill this frozen bitch?"

"Nia will never fight alongside her army," Lexa answered. "She'll undoubtedly be miles away, surrounded by dozens of guards and passing her orders to her generals on the front lines through a messenger. She likely will not even show her face until after the battle is fought."

"Coward," Octavia grumbled. "So, how do we find her?"

Silence settled over them as they tried desperately to wrack their brains for an answer. "I know of one sure way," Clarke spoke up and the eyes of everyone in the room fell upon her but it was the emerald ones of the woman next to her that sent a jolt of nerves down her spine. "Nia will want me alive so that she can use me to get to Lexa. I'm not opposed to being live bait."

"Absolutely not!" Lexa and Abby growled in unison, just the simple idea of it an affront to their very being. "I will not place your life in pointless danger," Lexa added, her words seething, practically burning beneath the heat of her glare.

"I think it is a good idea," Titus said, meeting Clarke's gaze. "Foolish, yes. But it would work."

"Titus!" Lexa snapped, whirling around on him with gritted teeth. "If you so much as—

"The messengers," Luna interrupted, stepping slightly between the Commander and the Flamekeeper to diffuse the situation. "You said that Nia will be using messengers to communicate with the front lines. Why don't we just follow one of them back to whatever cave she's hiding in?"

Kane nodded. "That could work. I think we all like that idea better, Clarke,"

Lexa held the Flamekeeper's gaze a moment longer, her posture shifted protectively in front of Clarke and her green eyes smoldering with the threat hidden within them. "I will take a small war party with me to hunt Nia down," she said, regaining control over her tone as she turned back to the council.

"Then I'm coming with you," Clarke returned, refusing to be anywhere other than by Lexa's side.

"I will accompany you as well, Alexandria," Luna said.

"Us too," Octavia added, motioning between herself and Lincoln. 

"Woah, hold on," Bellamy shifted forward, placing both palms on the table. "No way, O. You're staying behind the walls."

Octavia looked as if she'd been physically slapped. "Like hell I am," she spat. "You think you're so badass because you can shoot a gun, Big Bro, but I'm the one who has been training to fight for months. If you're so concerned about my safety, then you can come with us, but there's no way I'm staying behind."

"Octavia," Bellamy warned, his tone filling with caution and Clarke could tell he was about to go off on one of his overprotective rants.

"Enough!" Lexa commanded, cutting them both off. "Bellamy, I appreciate that you want to protect your sister, but she has already fought by my side once, and I am confident in her abilities as a warrior. You should honor her in that."

Now it was Bellamy who looked as if he'd been punched as he let out a heavy sigh that completely deflated his shoulders. "Fine," he conceited. "But I'm coming with you."

"I expected no less," Lexa replied. 

"So, it's settled then," Clarke said. "Raven and Sinclair will refine the oil and work on rigging the explosives we'll need for our trap. Kane and Pike can man the wall and issue commands to our people during the assault and Abby will be in the med bay tending to the wounded. The rest of us will go with Lexa in search of Nia."

The group nodded and grumbled their agreement, yet nobody had a chance to reply as the flaps to the tent burst open and one of Lexa's guards sprinted into the room. He was coated in sweat despite the bitter cold and gasping for air behind a thick chest-length beard. "Heda!" he said frantically, eyes wildly darting around the room before landing on Lexa at the head of the table. "Riders approaching!" he stammered out.

Lexa was swiftly moving towards the door without hesitation, her hand falling instinctively to the hilt of the sword at her waist as she straightened her spine and held her chin high. "How many?" she asked.

"Hundreds!" the man replied.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They rushed into the blinding daylight. The sun, even though buried behind a grey cloud cover, was still bright enough to draw tears from their eyes. Dozens of warriors scrambled about behind the metal walls of Arkadia, gathering weapons and searching for their brothers in arms amongst the chaos. Sky People flooded to the tops of the walls, brandishing their guns and aiming them at the horizon beyond the sea of tents that sat just outside the gates. Lexa’s guard rushed to surround her as she charged through the masses with Clarke and the council hot on her heals. Her shoulders were rigid, like a lion waiting to strike, preparing to attack anything that dared threaten her people.

Clarke fell into stride beside her, trudging towards the outer edges of their camp as her eyes scanned the trees for any sign of movement. Luna was at her other side, already twirling a spear around and behind her back, giving it a stylish flourish that demonstrated both skill and grace. Octavia and Lincoln trudged behind them, both of them gripping their swords tightly and exchanging words of assurance quietly between themselves. Clarke didn’t have to look back to know that Bellamy, Pike, and Kane had been handed guns and were following closely, intent on investigating the disturbance.

There was an uneasiness to the group as they went, their nerves practically fraying in anticipation of what lay just over the ridge and beyond the trees. Clarke felt knots ball themselves in her stomach and threaten to force the bile from her throat as she all but heaved at the thought that Ice Nation was this close already. They weren’t prepared. They still needed days to finish organizing their defenses and laying their traps, and if they were attacked now, surely the plan they had come up with would be of no use. She found herself wishing for the one thing in the world that she knew she needed but would always be out of reach: time. They needed more time.

“Commander, this may be a dumb question,” Bellamy piped up from the back of the group. “But if we’re about to face an army of thousands, then why are we charging directly towards it?”

Lexa glanced over her shoulder, sparing a moment to see who had followed, but never once faltered her stride. “The scout said that it was just riders,” she answered, her voice strained behind what Clarke thought was nerves and a bit of irritation. “If the Ice Nation army was here in full, we would know.”

“Unless it’s a trap,” she heard Bellamy mumble under his breath though he didn’t voice his objections loud enough for the Commander to hear.

“Easy,” she heard Pike attempt to calm him.

They pushed beyond the last row of tents and towards the tree line, coming to a halt as the sound of approaching hooves rumbled through the air around them. If the sky above wasn’t so calm at the moment, Clarke would have thought that the sound could have been thunder rumbling in the distance. But the longer they listened, the louder the sound grew, crashing and echoing off the high trees as birds flocked away from the noise of the incoming stampede. Each of them gripped their weapons tightly, preparing to fight if need be, and Clarke spared a quick look behind her to see that the entirety of the Grounder army they had amassed stood at their backs, ready to charge into the fray.

The rumbling came to a sudden halt, as if the charge had been stopped dead in its tracks, and the silence hanging heavily around them was eerie and unsettling, setting Clarke’s hair on end down the back of her neck. She stood beside Lexa, the Commander staring straight ahead and slightly working her jaw back and forth, the only sign of visible nerves. Aside from the clenching of her jaw, she stood entirely still, facing forward with her chin high and her shoulders square. Her red cape flowed elegantly down her back, contrasting starkly against the white snow around their ankles. Her eyes blazed a fierce shade of green, scanning the tree line diligently before settling on the single figure that emerged slowly from the wilderness.

A familiar silhouette strutted into view atop an impressive black stallion, her shoulders back and spine perfectly straight in the saddle as her deep brown eyes flicked across the crowd in front of her, landing directly on Lexa. She dropped down off her mount, her knee high black boots sinking into the fresh white snow up to her ankles and her long brown fur cloak just barely kissing the ground as she took a few steps forward, leaving deep footprints in her wake. Beneath the heavy open jacket, Clarke could make out the recognizable plated shoulder armor that strapped in buckles across the woman's solid chest. Even with a heavy hood pulled over her head and a grey scarf wrapped around her neck and chin, Clarke could make out the rigid scars and the black tribal tattoos that framed the right side of her otherwise impeccable dark features.

"Indra," Lexa gasped as if she had been holding her breath, striding forward to meet her most trusted warrior and friend. She held up a single gloved fist to tell her army to hold position though Clarke was already moving to follow her along with Octavia and Lincoln.

The two women met each other in a casual embrace, clasping wrists and pulling slightly together in a show of respect and with the knowledge that hundreds of pairs of eyes were on them. Indra offered Clarke a slight dip of her head before taking her hand in her own and then moving on to meet an eager Octavia and Lincoln. The exchange was formal and brief but did not lack the relief and excitement at seeing one another again. Behind them, Clarke watched as dozens of faces swam into view in the green of the forest just beyond the tree line, many of the eyes staring back at her going wide with recognition but not attempting to move beyond the shelter of the tree trunks.

Indra lifted a hand to run a gentle finger over the dark bruise across Octavia's sharp cheekbone. "I assume that you fought well, my _Seken_ ," the hardened warrior stated.

"She did," it was Lexa who responded. "It is good to see you again, Indra," she added, once again clasping the warrior's wrist. The air of respect and admiration between the two women was unmistakable, buzzing around them like static emitting a steady charge that was demanding to be felt and noticed.

"You as well, Heda," Indra answered with unhindered reverence in her tone.

Lexa's emerald eyes flicked to the dozens, if not hundreds, of faces hidden in the trees only yards away. "My scouts reported a hundred riders approaching," the Commander said, not attempting to hide the caution in her voice though keeping it well away from her features. "Who are these people, Indra? What clans do they hail from?"

Indra's stone features gave way to a slight smile that brimmed with both excitement and pride. "All clans, Heda," she said. 

The battle-hardened warrior lifted her hand then, motioning with a flick of her open palm for the others to come forward into the light. Clarke watched as the herd of people came forward, weapons sheathed and empty hands held in front of them to demonstrate to the archers and gunners that they meant no harm. They wore furs and colors of every different clan, some dressed more appropriately against the harsh winter weather than others, all clearly hailing from near and far. Their eyes met Lexa's with hope, some even offered bows while others exchanged nods and Clarke was stunned to see that some of the gestures of utmost respect were aimed in her direction as well.

"These are the warriors that were rescued from Mount Weather, Heda," Indra explained, gesturing to the group behind her. Clarke was stunned to see that a few of them even wore the grey and white furs of Ice Nation, and it suddenly made sense why they were looking at her as if she'd just saved their lives from certain death. She had. Both she and Lexa. "They owe you their lives, despite the banners they fly and the colors they wear, you are their Commander. They will fight for you as you fought for them."

Very rarely had she ever seen Lexa speechless, but at that moment her mouth was falling open and then quickly closing as if she couldn't find the words she was searching for beneath the emotions that never made it to her face. "How?" was all the Commander could muster.

"I came across their tracks in the woods a few days back and followed them thinking that it might be a large Ice Nation war party," Indra explained. "When I caught up to them and saw the different clothing and clan banners, I knew that it wasn't a war party I'd stumbled across. They came from all over to show their loyalty to you, Commander. Many of them will not have a clan to go back to after this."

"They will if I have anything to say about it," Lexa replied, her words ringing with promise. "We will win this war, Indra," she added as her gaze traveled across the sea of faces staring at her with reverence and hope, as if she was the only answer to prayers they'd spent their lives wishing for. "The difference between our people and _Azgeda_ is that we're fighting for a better future; a future worth fighting for. They fight only for greed and personal gain."

Indra nodded slowly, clearly not as confident in Lexa's prediction as she was, undoubtedly made somber by the years of battle and conflict she had endured in her lifetime. "The Ice Nation army is two days out to the North," she informed them, now glancing back and forth between Clarke and the Commander and giving Luna a brief single nod. "Their numbers are far greater than we anticipated, Heda," she said, dropping her tone so low that only those in the immediate area could hear.

"We'll be ready for them," Clarke assured her, drawing strength from Lexa's words and putting faith in the plan they had come up with. 

"There's something else, Clarke," Indra said, leaning in close like she was about to reveal the answer to some perplexing mystery. "This group came across an Ice Nation scouting party two days ago. They captured a man that claims he is the last of the Mountain Men. Some of the warriors here say they recognize him from the time they spent in Mount Weather," she divulged. "The man claims that he knows you."

Clarke could taste the bile welling up in the back of her throat, bitter on her tongue and threatening to spill over. She knew that her face had gone ghastly white and judging by the way Lexa's concerned hands reached out to steady her, she must have been swaying in place as well. She felt her heart thumping in her chest, pumping searing blood through her veins that spread through her body like wildfire as the images from Mount Weather came crashing back to her with enough force to knock her from her feet. If Lexa's strong hands had not been grasping her shoulders, she would have surely collapsed to a trembling heap in the snow at their feet. She gasped for breath, her chest quickly swelling and deflating as she struggled to get enough air to her lungs, feeling as if every breath she took was tainted with the scent of death and bubbling irradiated flesh.

"Steady yourself, Clarke," Lexa whispered, green eyes finding blue. "Put your demons to rest."

Clarke sucked in a deep, chilling blast of air through her nose and let it out slowly through parted, quaking lips as she gave the Commander a faint nod. "Bring him to me," Clarke said, addressing Indra as she stepped from the warmth of Lexa's grasp.

"Bring him out!" Indra yelled over her shoulder, barking the command at a few of the warriors behind her.

There was a slight commotion in their ranks as a few people parted and two warriors emerged from the trees dragging a limp body between them. The man's head hung down between his shoulders and lulled from side to side as if struggling to find consciousness, and although the blonde mess of hair atop his head was dirty and matted with blood, Clarke already knew who it was without having to see his face. His useless legs left deep tracks in the snow behind them and his massive muscular frame was huddled in on itself, his bound hands tucked into his chest as he struggled to protect himself from the bitter cold. He wore nothing more than a blood stained white shirt and frayed navy cargo pants and as they reached the spot where Clarke and the Commander stood, the warriors not so gently shoved the man to his knees in the snow.

He swayed a bit, but did not fall forward, instead picking his head up slowly to look at Clarke with familiar blue eyes framed behind a swollen mass of bruises that littered his face. He had grown a scraggly blonde beard since the last time she had seen him, but he was still unmistakable despite the facial hair and the number the Grounders had done on his face. "Carl Emerson," Clarke rasped, her voice trying to flee her, "Mount Weather Security Detail."

He stared at her a moment as if in a daze, blinking a few times like he was trying to wake himself from a nightmare only to find that he was trapped in reality. When he realized where he was and who the girl was before him, a slow smile spread over his gruesome features, white teeth stained with blood and chipped at the corners. "Clarke Griffin," he scoffed. "The teenage girl playing at being a leader." He didn't give her a chance to respond as hoarse laughter bubbled up from his chest and spilled into the still air around them, sounding eerie and entirely out of place. He managed to pull himself to his feet just enough to be eye level with her before reeling back and spitting a wad of snot and blood in her face.

Lexa reacted immediately, putting herself between Emerson and Clarke and kicking his wobbly legs out from beneath him as he crashed to the ground in a heap of weak limbs and shattered muscles. "Get him out of here!" she growled, her tone one of pure malice. "Throw him in a holding cell!"

Bellamy and Lincoln instantly obeyed, grabbing the man beneath his arms and wrenching him up onto his feet again before dragging him in the direction of the Ark. Lexa whirled around on Clarke, bringing her hand up and using her sleeve to wipe the foul fluids from her face and scanning her body as if searching for physical injuries though she knew there were none. Clarke stood there in a daze, letting the Commander tend to the filth on her cheeks as her mind raced about, suddenly connecting the details that had long since alluded her.

"Clarke?" Lexa asked, tongue clicking dominantly over the -k. "Clarke, are you okay?"

Clarke felt her heart shatter in her chest as all the pieces fell into place in her head. "I need to talk to him," she replied, turning away without another word and chasing after Bellamy and Lincoln.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke was surprised at how quickly and efficiently the boys had moved, and by the time she reached the narrow halls of Arkadia, the man was already in a holding cell and under interrogation by Marcus Kane. She knew Lexa and Indra had followed her inside, and they stood beside her now as she viewed the interrogation through the wall-length Plexiglas window in front of them. The room was empty and barren, just four hard metal walls and a single door, the cold steel reflecting the sharp fluorescent lights harshly and Clarke almost preferred the sun glinting brightly off white snow. She felt Lexa's reassuring hand skim across her fingertips, just a whisper of a touch to let her know that she was not alone, but it did nothing to calm her addled nerves.

Carl Emerson sat huddled against the wall, eyes shut and mumbling something beneath his breath, clearly ignoring every question that Kane was throwing at him. In the artificial light it was easy to see that his cheeks were gaunt as if he'd not eaten in days and some of the dark circles beneath his eyes that Clarke originally thought was bruising were actually just shadows from lack of sleep. Nevertheless, there were still bumps and swollen bruises dotting his jawline and cheekbones and there was an open gash across his forehead that had long since been caked over with dried blood. His hair was tangled and dirty, his loose clothing was ripped and stained the deep rust color of old blood and it was blatantly obvious that the Grounders that had captured him had not been kind. There was only one detail that was out of place amongst it all, and that was the deep pink scar that framed his left eye, looking somewhat recent and clearly carved there with intent. It was the brand of Ice Nation.

Kane's shoulders dropped in clear defeat, huffing a sigh as he backed out of the room and exited through the door, letting it slide shut behind him. "He won't talk to me," he said. "Says he'll only speak to you, Clarke."

Clarke nodded, already moving towards the door as Lexa shifted to follow in behind her, but Kane held up a hand in protest. "He says he'll only talk to her _alone_ , Commander," he added, shying away from the glare that Lexa was shooting him, burning with enough intensity to melt entire icebergs.

"That is not happening," she stated, already shifting protectively in front of Clarke.

"I'll be fine, Lex," Clarke assured her softly as she gently stepped around her towards the door. "You'll be watching through the glass the entire time, but I need to do this. I need answers and he has them."

Lexa hesitated for a moment, green eyes landing on the man in the other room before taking a single step back to stand in front of the window. "If he so much as looks at you wrong, I'll kill him," she threatened, her tone menacing and dripping with promise.

"If he spits at me again, I'll kill him myself," Clarke joked, trying to lighten the mood but failing when she saw the slight snarl pull up the corner of Lexa's mouth.

Clarke turned towards Kane and gave him a single nod, stepping through the door as he slid it open for her and then gently sealed it shut. Carl Emerson looked up to meet her gaze as she shuffled further in to the little square room, staring at her as if peering right into the heart of her soul. She glared back at him, challenging his gaze and finding the ghosts that danced behind his eyes and haunted his existence, feeding off the light and life in his body like some sort of parasite and leaving behind only darkness. Clarke wondered if her eyes, eyes that had witnessed the same atrocities and had seen the same death and evil that man could inflict upon one another, held the same demons.

"It was you," Clarke whispered when she finally found enough courage to speak. "You're the one who gave Ice Nation the self destruct codes to Mount Weather and told them how to use them."

"Very good, Clarke," Emerson rasped, voice husky and broken. "You're not just a dumb blonde after all."

Clarke saw Lexa tense up out of the corner of her eye, moving towards the door before Indra placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she figured that their conversation must be playing over a speaker in the other room. "You killed forty-nine of my people that day," she stated, feeling her nails dig into the flesh at her palms from clenching her fists together too tightly.

"And you killed three-hundred of mine!" Emerson shouted, the veins in his neck bulging behind flushed skin. "Including my wife and both of my children," he added, tone falling and giving away to the storm of pain raging in his heart.

"You were harvesting my people for their bone marrow!" Clarke countered.

"You pulled that lever and left my people to die!" he shot back, finding what strength he could to prop himself against the wall and use it as leverage to get him to his feet.

"You left me with no choice," she replied, standing her ground and holding his gaze.

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity before his enraged expression fell to something that looked more akin to defeat. "I told Nia to wait you know," he said. "I told her to wait until you were in Mount Weather with your people to set off the detonation so that you would know what it was like to burn to death inside a tomb. I wanted you to feel the same pain that my kids felt when they died, but Nia wanted her war, so I had to settle for you knowing the same pain that I felt when my people burned."

"I do feel that pain," Clarke shot back, gritting her teeth. "I've felt that pain every single day since I pulled that lever."

Emerson shook his head in disbelief, glaring at her through bloodshot eyes. "You know nothing of pain," he growled, low and full of malice. "But I'm gonna show you."

Before Clarke had a chance to react, Emerson was flinging himself on her, tearing her to the ground with the full weight of his body as he wrapped his bound hands around her throat. The pressure on her neck strangled the scream that was trying desperately to escape her lungs as he lifted her head up and slammed it down into the cold metal floor beneath them. Clarke saw black spots crowd and burst behind her vision as she struggled to scramble from beneath his massive frame, her fingers tearing uselessly at his wrists and hands. He had blood lust in his eyes, boring holes into her gaze as his face twisted in pure unhindered hatred, every ounce of strength left in his body deigning to choke the life right out of her.

"Open the door!" she heard Lexa roaring just outside the room, faintly aware of the sounds of fists pounding against glass. "Get him off of her!" she heard the Commander screech, this time slightly closer but she was already losing consciousness as the world began to fade around her.

"Clarke!" Lexa was yelling her name with such fear it sounded as if her entire world was coming to an end.

Suddenly the man on top of her was being lifted away, his grip on her throat relinquishing as Bellamy, Lincoln and Kane pulled Emerson off of her and slammed him back against the nearby wall as he struggled madly against their combined restraint. The entire ordeal must have only lasted a few seconds, but Clarke was sputtering and gasping for air nonetheless, caught completely off guard by the suddenness of the brutal attack. He had been aiming to kill her, the look in his wild blue eyes and the throbbing in the back of her head where he'd slammed her into the floor told her so. 

Lexa was struggling against restraints of her own, Indra's arms wrapped securely around her waist and attempting to hold her back. Her sword was drawn, clutched tightly in white knuckles, and her normally impassive features were twisted with both anger and fear that was practically radiating off of her in waves. She looked as if she was about to take on an entire army by herself, all composure that was the Commander gone from view and replaced by wild green eyes and gritted teeth. She was shouting at Indra in _Trigedasleng_ , judgment clouded with the need to protect Clarke as she threw an elbow back that crashed into the warriors nose with force. Indra released her hold on Lexa, dazed as blood began to pour from her nose. Instantly the Commander shot forward, raising her sword and preparing to end Carl Emerson's life.

"Lexa, wait!" Clarke yelled, finally finding her voice beneath bruised vocal chords and a damaged throat. She hauled herself to her feet and put her body between the Commander and the last of the Mountain Men. "Don't kill him," she rasped. "Violence does not always need to answer violence, remember? Blood does not always demand blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so definitely a dense conversation heavy chapter. To be honest, I really enjoyed writing the way Arkadia and the Sky People have changed and I think that transformation really demonstrates the underlying tone of the story that no matter how different people seem or how unfamiliar traditions may be, we can always come together and accept each other. Nice Guy Pike was sort of the character that I chose to highlight that contrast between what I'm writing and the steaming pile of crap that the show gave us, and I hope that you guys have enjoyed that version of his character. Aden is alive and well and Indra is back with a full on army of loyalists. I know that we only have three chapters left in this guys, but I'm planning on them being long and very dense, so don't get too upset over it. I'll see you with a new update next week!
> 
> -Alex


	15. Part Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Hope everyone is enjoying their respective holidays that they celebrate! So, I know it feels like we are rapidly approaching the end of the story here and that there is still so much to tell, so I want you to know that I'm toying with the idea of maybe extending this a few more chapters. That being said, this is another massive update and there is seriously so much going on here, so I'll let you guys get to it and I'll see you at the end.
> 
> -Alexandra

Lexa stared at Clarke, fury fuming in her gaze and her hand trembling around the grip of the sword where it hovered at her side like a snake waiting to strike. Emerson gave up his struggles against Bellamy, Lincoln and Kane’s restraints, his body going limp with the exhaustion of too much exerted energy. His chest was heaving, sucking in strained breaths, but his eyes remained narrowed and honed in on Clarke, glaring at her the way a predator focuses intently on its prey. Lexa let out a strangled groan, shoving her sword back in its sheath before taking Clarke’s hand in her own and towing her towards the door.

“Wow,” Emerson spat. “The mighty Commander of the twelve clans put on a leash by her Sky Bitch,” he seethed, laced with hatred.

Lexa stopped in her tracks and whirled around before Clarke could stop her, planting a heavy boot in Emerson’s face that connected with a sickly _crunch_. The man sunk back against the wall, sliding down in a daze as blood sputtered from his clearly broken nose, twisted and bent at an unnatural angle. Lexa hesitated, sucking in a deep breath to regain control of her storming emotions, but she quickly lost her composure again when Emerson started chuckling in an attempt to antagonize her further. Her green eyes flashed with rage, stepping forward and landing a heavy fist against his face that had his head snapping back into the hard metal panel behind him, knocking him unconscious as his limp body slid the rest of the way to the floor.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, placing a gentle hand on her elbow and giving her a sharp squeeze. “Come on,” she said, tugging her away from the unconscious man before she could change her mind and draw her sword to finish the job. Clarke pulled her from the room and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the door slid shut behind them.

“I should have killed him, ” Lexa growled, her tone sharp enough to kill.

They hurried through the cold metal halls of Arkadia, rushing out of the nearest door and into the bitter night air. Clarke’s throat was throbbing and she knew that it would be adorned with a necklace of black and blue bruises the next day, a souvenir left behind by Emerson’s vice-like grip. Lexa’s hand rested on her lower back as she guided her in the direction of her tent, her fingers protectively knotted in the fabric of Clarke’s overcoat as if ready to yank her away from the first hint of danger. Through her jacket she could feel the way that Lexa’s hand was still trembling and out of the corner of her eye she could see the Commander’s jaw working back and forth in an effort to control her raging emotions. The snow had just started to fall around them, the little white flakes bringing soothing relief to the damaged skin at Clarke’s throat where they landed and melted almost instantly.

“Baby, breathe for a minute,” Clarke answered, casting Lexa a sidelong glance until she watched the Commander exhale a long cloud of white vapor, her breath visible in the chilly winter night. “Killing him would have solved nothing.”

“It would have solved my need to drive a sword through his retched chest!” Lexa snapped, though her anger was aimed at Emerson rather than Clarke. Her free hand still rested on the hilt of her sword, knuckles white as she clenched her fist so tightly that it seemed like she was trying to break it in half.

“Lexa, he attacked me because he knew that you were watching. He knew that you would kill him and that is exactly what he wanted. He’s a broken man,” Clarke explained. “He’s not strong enough to live in this world with the things he’s seen and done, and he can’t kill himself. All he has left is his anger. I know because I know exactly what he is feeling; it’s exactly how I felt when you found me in the forest.”

The Commander reached out and held open the flaps to her tent for Clarke to enter before her as she guided her in protectively, throwing a glance behind them as if checking to see if they’d been followed. “I would have been happy to grant his wish,” she answered, softer now but still laced and dripping with fury.

“Letting him live the rest of his days in a cell, trapped with the memory of his family and the knowledge that he is the last of his kind, will be a punishment worse than death. Killing him would have absolved him of that torment,” Clarke tried again, this time appealing to Lexa’s raging desire for retribution. “Besides, maybe we can get some information out of him on Nia. He seemed to have been involved in her planning, maybe he knows something.”

“Or maybe I’ll relieve him of his head and use it to send Nia a message,” the Commander fumed, slamming a fist down on the table that was still littered in papers and blueprints from their extensive preparations.

The tent was dimly lit, most of the candles having long since burned down, and all that remained were a few flickering stubs and the smoldering embers of fading fires in the basins on the floor. In the narrow light, Lexa’s emerald eyes danced with fury, blazing with orange and red that reflected the burning inferno of emotions ripping through her very core. Clarke could see the intensity in her stare, the heat in which she held her gaze, steady and unwavering as if the cool blue in Clarke’s eyes was the only thing that could douse her anger. Clarke stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two long strides as she let her hands slide around Lexa’s waist, their faces just inches apart. The Commander trembled in her grasp and Clarke could not tell if it was her fury that was causing the quaking, or the simple prospect of Clarke’s sudden proximity.

“Violence does not always need to answer violence,” she whispered, reminding Lexa of the words that she used for the foundation of their peaceful future. “Sometimes, blood must not have blood.”

“Clarke,” Lexa rasped, bringing her hands up to frame the blonde’s face. “I will _never_ allow anyone to lay a hand on you again,” she said, her tone almost desperate in her promise. “You are mine.”

“I am,” Clarke answered.

“Say it,” Lexa shot back, her gaze unexpectedly blaring with desire.

“I’m yours,” Clarke whispered.

Before she even had a chance to voice an afterthought, Lexa’s mouth was crashing into hers, devouring her lips with such sudden intensity that it had Clarke’s head spinning. Clarke parted her mouth and Lexa accepted her invitation, deepening the kiss as their teeth and tongues clashed together and Lexa’s fists found purchase in the fabric of Clarke’s shirt, spinning her around and backing her up against the table. Clarke felt a guttural moan erupt from her throat as Lexa’s teeth sank into her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and quickly swiping her tongue over the spot to replace the sharp pain with a sensation of warmth. Clarke was pinned between Lexa’s hips and the hard wooden table behind her, gasping sharply as Lexa wrenched a knee between her thighs and pushed desperately into her center.

Clarke couldn’t help the way her body reacted, her hips instantly canting forward to grant Lexa further access, already feeling her desire soaking through her pants and drenching Lexa’s thigh. The layers of clothes between them were too much of a barrier and Lexa quickly moved to resolve the issue, yanking Clarke’s jacket off her shoulders and throwing it aside before her hands found their way beneath the blonde’s shirt, tearing it from her body with enough force to rip the fabric. Clarke fumbled with her bindings, her fingers trembling with her desire as she freed her breasts while Lexa wrenched her pants and underwear down to her ankles and over her boots.

Then the Commander’s mouth was on hers again, taking her with the same fire that burned behind her eyes and deep between Clarke’s thighs. Lexa’s tongue swam through Clarke’s mouth, tasting faintly of smoke and pine, her nails digging into the skin at Clarke’s hips as she pulled her soaking wet center down onto her thigh once more. The toned muscle of Lexa’s leg pressing deep and eager against Clarke’s clit was enough to have her coming undone, her muscles already clenching as she climbed recklessly towards the edge of release. Lexa’s mouth surrendered hers in a moment of respite, gasping for breath before clamping down on Clarke’s pulse point at the nape of her bruised throat, eager to replace the marks that Emerson left behind with marks of her own. A growl ripped through Lexa’s teeth, humming against Clarke’s flushed skin causing Clarke to throw her head back as a deep throaty moan escaped her lips.

She hit her release in seconds, the orgasm wracking through her body, gripping the muscles in her legs and abs and sending them into uncontrollable spasms as she cried out Lexa’s name. The Commander only pressed in further, the lust in her blown out pupils dark and haunting and not nearly sated as her hands moved from Clarke’s hips up to her breasts. Lexa’s palms were clammy and damp against Clarke’s pert nipples, kneading them to attention before taking them between her fingers and giving them sharp, quick tugs as Clarke road out the last of her orgasm. 

When the last of the tremors eased to tiny jolts, Lexa’s skilled hands were spinning Clarke around swiftly as her mouth reclaimed the skin where Clarke’s shoulder met her neck. Lexa parted Clarke’s legs with her thigh once more, instantly sending another rush of warmth to the blonde’s center, wetting her already soaked folds once more. Clarke whimpered as Lexa pushed her forward, pressing her bare chest against the solid wood of the table, and the contrast between cold against her breasts and the warmth between her legs enough to set her senses on fire. She was breathing heavily, feeling the way Lexa’s nails raked a slow trail down her back followed by the gentle press of her lips to soothe the aching skin. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, alight with buzzing electricity that pulsed through her veins and sent shockwaves to the bundle of nerves between her thighs.

Lexa’s right hand traveled down to Clarke’s bare ass, giving it a sharp slap while her left hand dug into the skin at her hip to hold her in place. Clarke whimpered, slamming her eyes shut as the sheer pleasure of the sensation sent her world spinning. Lexa’s fingers were already massaging the handprint she’d left behind, replacing the brief sting of pain with torturously slow relief before her hand dipped lower still, immersing itself in the slick warmth of Clarke’s dripping folds. 

“Oh…Clarke,” Lexa gasped as her fingers found their way to the hardened bundle of nerves at the blonde’s apex.

“Lexa…fuck….Lex!” Clarke cried as the Commander danced slow circles around her clit, sliding easily in the juices of Clarke’s own doing. “Lex, please,” she begged.

Lexa’s fingers shifted to Clarke’s entrance, her index just barely plunging ever so slightly inside before slowly pulling back out. “Please what?” the Commander asked.

“Please,” Clarke huffed again, her mind too clouded to form a coherent thought. “Inside. Now,” she pleaded, just barely managing to gasp the words between shaky, quick breaths.

The Commander obliged, pushing one finger in to the knuckle and sliding it all the way out before working in a second. Clarke’s hips reacted, thrusting backwards to pull her in deeper as her hands crunched the papers beneath her on the table, grasping anything they could find. Lexa’s rhythm was slow to start out with, pushing deep into the walls of Clarke’s center until they found their way to the spot that had Clarke crying out in pleasure, her voice raspy and trembling with blinding hot desire. As Clarke’s breathing quickened, so did Lexa’s pace, thrusting in and out to match the beat of Clarke’s huffing breaths and canting hips, sending her rocketing towards climax as white spots popped behind her vision.

“Fuck, Lexa!” she yelped as the hand that had been gripping her waist plunged forward to find her clit while the fingers inside of her never faltered in their work. “Lexa, more, please,” Clarke begged, unable to mutter more than one syllable at a time. “Deeper!” she finally managed.

Lexa pushed harder at Clarke’s request, burying her index and middle finger up past her knuckles as Clarke’s dripping desire ran down her hand. Clarke’s build was climbing faster and faster, her legs trembling and threatening to give out as moan after moan ripped through her chest and erupted from her throat. Lexa’s ministrations at her clit stopped as the Commander found purchase in the skin at Clarke’s hips once more, using her own strength to push and pull the blonde forward and back, her fingers sinking impossibly deeper. Clarke was nearly screaming, her voice hoarse as her entire world came undone when Lexa pushed into her with a third finger, sending her crashing down the other side of her release as wave upon wave shuddered through her.

Clarke collapsed forward with Lexa’s fingers still inside of her, letting the cool wood of the table soothe her flushed cheek while her spasms came to a slow halt. If it wasn’t for the table in front of her and Lexa’s solid frame behind her, Clarke was sure she would have collapsed into a puddle of jelly legs and cum, barely able to hold herself up. When Lexa slowly slid her fingers free, Clarke heard her moan of pleasure followed by the popping of her lips as she sucked her fingers clean. The Commander’s hands trailed up Clarke’s bare arms, spinning her around gently and holding her steady in her firm grasp as the blonde swayed in front of her.

Lexa leaned in and pressed her lips to Clarke’s, smiling in satisfaction of her work. Clarke tasted herself on the Commander’s tongue as Lexa purposefully dragged it across her bottom lip before she pulled back to meet Clarke’s fluttering gaze. “Are you still so certain that I am a bottom, Clarke?” she asked, her tone dark and challenging.

Clarke nodded seductively, keeping her voice low and her mouth only a centimeter from Lexa’s so that she breathed the words against the Commander’s lips. “You may be the Commander of the Coalition, Lexa,” she whispered. “But we both know who commands you.”

Lexa smiled wickedly at the insinuation, her blown pupils reflecting the smoldering embers of the dying fires around them. “Is that so?” she asked.

“Let me show you,” Clarke replied.

Clarke’s mouth was devouring Lexa’s before the Commander had a chance to return a witty quip, lapping up the taste of herself as she raked her tongue across the roof of Lexa’s mouth. She grabbed the fabric of Lexa’s overcoat, bunching it in her hands before spinning and backing the Commander up into the table, Lexa’s white knuckled grip finding purchase at the edge of the solid wood. Clarke’s fingers were already working the ties and straps that clasped Lexa’s armor in place, releasing it and sending it crashing to the ground with a heavy _thud_ in a pile of steel and red fabric from her cape. She was wearing nothing but a thin shirt beneath her overcoat that Clarke quickly and effortlessly yanked it over her head, only breaking their kiss long enough to get the shirt off. When their mouths found each other once more, it was with teeth clashing behind panting breaths.

Lexa whimpered as Clarke’s nails dug through the skin of her back, easily drawing blood, though the hardened warrior only relished in the pain and the desperate tone of her cries told Clarke that she was aching for more. Clarke’s hands made their way over Lexa’s hips and down the front of her firm and prominent abs as her fingers fumbled on the clasp of Lexa’s belt. She pulled back from their kiss, taking Lexa’s bottom lip with her between her teeth and nipping at it sharply before meeting the Commander’s steady gaze.

“Off. Now,” Clarke commanded, looping her finger in Lexa’s waistline and giving the pants a sharp tug. Lexa arched a perfect brow at her, her cheeks flushed red beneath sweat soaked skin that practically glowed gold in the candlelight, but she obeyed, unbuckling her belt and sword and sliding her pants down to her ankles. “All of it,” Clarke added, tugging on her underwear.

Again, Lexa obeyed, bending slightly to pull her underwear down to her ankles and kicking off her boots along with the discarded garments so that she was left completely naked in the fading firelight. Clarke backed her up to the table again, pressing their naked bodies together as she slid her hands behind Lexa’s thighs and helped lift her into a sitting position on the wooden surface. She pressed their foreheads together, maintaining eye contact as she wrenched open Lexa’s legs and stepped into the space between her thighs where they hung over the edge of the table. Lexa’s center was warm and dripping against Clarke’s stomach and the Commander let out a gentle moan as Clarke pulled her closer still, needing to feel the moisture slide against her bare skin. 

Their chests were pressed together, nipples erect and carving trails through beaded sweat as their mouths found each other once more. The desperation and fire that had burned between them was no longer as glaring, replaced instead by unhindered need and want, very similar to the way Clarke had made love to Lexa the night before. Clarke’s hands trailed up Lexa’s back, her fingers gently tracing the tattoo there from memory, skittering over the welts her nails had left behind and the rugged scars that battle had permanently etched into the Commander’s flesh. Lexa was flawed, human, flesh and blood and bone, forged in the crucible of battle and tainted by death. Lexa was perfect.

“I’m going to take you,” Clarke whispered against her lips. “Tell me that you want that.”

The Commander leaned forward and closed the distance between their mouths before replying. “I want _you_ , Clarke,” she rasped.

The answer was better than Clarke expected and she found herself smiling into Lexa’s kiss, pressing their lips together in a familiar dance that spoke all the words they didn’t need to say. Clarke moved away, trailing soft kisses down Lexa’s impeccable jawline before letting her mouth close around the soft flesh just above the Commander’s prominent collarbone. She drew the skin into her mouth, nipping softly with her teeth while sucking hard enough to leave a brand that marked Lexa as hers and hers alone. She may have belonged to her people, but Clarke was the one that laid claim to her, marking her in a way that told the world she was taken. 

Lexa let out a breathy moan, collapsing backwards onto the table as Clarke’s hands moved across her bare chest, skimming over her breasts where her nipples were already hard and throbbing. She leaned forward, pressing her stomach further into Lexa’s folds as her mouth closed around Lexa’s breast, her tongue teasing her nipple between her teeth while her hand worked attentively on the other. The Commander whimpered once more as her hips automatically pushed forward against the flat of Clarke’s stomach, arching upward in need of more contact. Clarke smiled, letting her tongue wander down the length of Lexa’s abs, her teeth nipping sharply at the prominent pelvic bone above Lexa’s right hip.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “Please.”

Clarke smiled against her skin in response. “Yes, baby,” she replied.

She lowered herself to her knees in front of the table, pushing Lexa’s thighs farther apart to expose her wet pink center, her desire dripping off of her, and Clarke felt her tongue water at the sight. Suddenly, she felt parched, an overwhelming thirst gripping her body that could only be sated by one thing, and she leaned forward to quench her craving. She swiped her tongue up the length of Lexa’s folds, the sweet and tangy taste driving her to near madness as she felt her own moan rip through her throat to match the one that Lexa couldn’t hold back. The Commander’s hips jumped upward, and Clarke draped her left hand over Lexa’s abs to hold her down in place as she ran her tongue in playful patterns over her throbbing clit. 

When Clarke’s fingers found their way to Lexa’s entrance while her tongue was still busy at work, the Commander gasped sharply, her hands weaving themselves into the hair at the back of Clarke’s head. Clarke smiled, dipping one finger inside as she purposefully hummed against the little bundle of nerves that had the Commander’s hips bucking once more. She pushed into Lexa with her middle finger, burying herself up to the knuckle and pulling all the way out only to thrust forward again, this time with two fingers instead of one. Lexa cried out, whimpering Clarke’s name to the heavens as if praying to whatever powers in the universe that had brought them together.

Clarke felt Lexa’s release before it hit her, her trembling thighs clamping around her ears and holding her tongue in place as her walls closed around her fingers. All it took was Clarke leaning back and blowing a gentle stream of air over Lexa’s clit to have her coming undone. She went completely silent as her back arched upwards, her fists balled in Clarke’s hair as the muscles in her abs and legs clenched uncontrollably. Clarke let her ride out her orgasm, gently teasing the sweet spot on the inside of Lexa’s upper wall until the Commander finally let out the breath she had been holding in, collapsing back onto the table and gasping for air.

They both sat in silence for a moment, catching their breath as they attempted to regain control of their raging emotions. Clarke rose from her knees, standing on shaky legs as she leaned forward and pulled Lexa up into a sitting position, not attempting to move from between her thighs. They were both drenched in sweat, the air smelling sweetly of sex and candles, as their heartbeats pounded in unison, fluttering against each other’s bare chests. Clarke’s hands slid up to Lexa’s waist, stepping back as she helped pull her down off the table, smiling when the Commander returned her embrace. Lexa’s lips found Clarke’s once more, plump and kiss swollen as their tastes swam together, the kiss no longer desperate and dripping with desire but rather content and brimming with unbridled affection.

“Come on,” Clarke whispered, taking Lexa by the hand and leading her towards the bedchambers that were partitioned off at the back of the tent. “It’s been a long day.”

“Indeed it has, Clarke,” Lexa replied with a smirk, letting Clarke pull her through the flaps and swiftly down onto the plush fur duvets that coated the bed.

Clarke slid beneath the warmth of the thick blankets, beckoning to Lexa with heavy half-lidded, love-drunk eyes. The Commander stared at her a moment, looking upon her with such intensity and reverence that she may have been studying the answer to every question the universe had to offer. When Clarke smiled softly and reached out to her, Lexa's eyes blinked a few times, pulling herself from her silent admiration before shifting under the duvet with Clarke. Clarke scooted herself over, pressing her backside firmly to Lexa's front as the brunette's arms slid around to pull her impossibly closer still as if trying to meld their two bodies into one. Clarke closed her eyes and hummed her satisfaction, feeling like nothing in the world could ever possibly go wrong when she was in Lexa's arms and, for a brief moment, forgetting that they were on the brink of war.

The Commander's breath was hot in her ear when she spoke, breathing life into the heavy satisfied silence. "I will always protect you, Clarke," she whispered, the assurance rimmed with need and laced with truth as if her very existence depended on it.

Clarke trailed tender fingers down the bare skin of Lexa's forearm where it wrapped around her waist, nodding gently. "We'll protect each other, Lex," she replied. When the Commander didn't respond for what felt like several minutes, Clarke spoke again. "What's going on in your head, baby?" she asked. "I can practically hear you thinking."

"I am thinking about what is going to happen when this is all over," Lexa answered, her tone filled with wonder and a slight edge of trepidation. "If we survive this, where do we go from there? Will you stay with your people?"

Clarke knew the answer without even having to think about it, cracking an eye open as the question pulled her gently from the clutches of euphoric bliss. " _When_ we survive this," she corrected, "I'll return to Polis with you. I can lead my people from there just as easily as I can lead them from here. With the trade routes and our people living in peace, there won't be a need for me to be present at every _Skaikru_ council meeting, and Polis is only a day's ride," she said, smiling briefly when she felt Lexa's sigh of relief against her ear as if she had been holding her breath for the answer.

"I would like that very much, Clarke," Lexa whispered, tightening her hold around the blonde's waist.

"Our future may be uncertain, Lex," Clarke began. "But I am certain that wherever you go, that is where I will be too."

The Commander nuzzled her nose through the hair at the base of Clarke's neck to press a soft kiss just at the top of her spine. "The future I see for my people is one of peace and prosperity," she said, her voice soft and complacent. "But when I think about my own future, all I can see is you."

Clarke felt the tiny smile at her lips grow just a bit wider. "Maybe one day you and I will owe nothing more to our people, and then we can have our future."

"Maybe on day..." Lexa mused, trailing off as she drifted closer to sleep.

Clarke edged back against her, counting in her head the steady beats of Lexa's heart against her bare skin. "I can feel your heart beating," she whispered, pulling Lexa's arms tighter and lacing their fingers together.

"It beats only for you, Clarke," Lexa's answer was soft, hovering just on the brink of unconsciousness.

Clarke settled in, feeling more safe and reassured in the warmth of Lexa's arms than she had in days, content to just lay there in the peaceful bliss of being with the woman she loved. Her eyes fell upon the single bouncing flame of the one candle that remained lit in the room, all the others had long since burned out, and it was as if the universe knew that it needed to chase away the darkness that had once threatened to consume them both. She drifted off into an easy slumber, her eyes pulling heavily closed as she watched the shadows on the wall dip and dance and feeling relief that her own shadows were finally at bay.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She woke the next morning to the sensation of plump lips pressing tenderly against her own, reaching out with her eyes still closed to wrap her hands around Lexa's neck and pull her in closer. She hummed at the smile that formed against her mouth and gently pulled away, opening her eyes and letting her vision come into focus to reveal deep, endless pools of emerald green only inches from her own. Lexa leaned over her, a sleepy grin on her face as she took Clarke's lips with her own once more and pulled the blonde further into the world of the living. Clarke snapped fully awake when her hand trailed down Lexa's bare back and she realized that the Commander was still naked on top of her, wrapped up in each other's warmth beneath the cozy fur duvet.

"Mmm," Clarke hummed. "Am I still dreaming?" she asked, eliciting another smile from the gorgeous brunette.

"No, Clarke," Lexa giggled and the sound was melodic and so very rare. "In fact, we overslept. It's nearly midday."

Clarke's eyes shot fully open as a wave of urgency swept through her. There was much to do, so much more to prepare and plan and discuss and they had wasted precious hours sleeping. But Lexa was smiling at her, looking calm as ever and beautiful in the soft light filtering through the canvas tent, and suddenly the urge to get out of bed didn't seem so urgent. "We should probably get dressed," Clarke said, silently cursing her rationality for betraying the needs of her body.

"Yes," Lexa agreed, bending to press another chaste kiss to Clarke's lips before sliding out of bed and standing, fully nude, in the middle of the room. "I need to bathe and dress for the day. Care to join me, Clarke?" she asked, putting emphasis over the -k the way that made Clarke's heart skip a beat in her chest.

She let her eyes roam over the Commander's naked form, tracing the pattern of her elegant tribal tattoos and absorbing every detail of her flush bare skin. Her abs were tightening and releasing with each breath she drew, her nipples hardening against the cool air around them and her plump lips parting as she caught Clarke's wandering eyes. Lexa's hair was a wild tangle of brown curls, splaying down over her shoulders and back, and Clarke couldn't help but admire the deep purple marks she had left behind on the Commander's collarbone and hip. The sight was enough to pull a small moan of desire from Clarke's throat as fresh heat pooled between her legs and she had to force her gaze away and focus it on something else before she lost control of her sudden arousal. 

"I think I'll just dress and meet you in the other room for breakfast," Clarke forced the treacherous words from her mouth, but she knew that if she allowed herself to sink into the steaming tub with Lexa that it would be hours before they surfaced again.

Lexa's eyes gleamed with victory as if she had been anticipating that answer, offering Clarke a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Very well, Clarke," she replied, shuffling towards the nearest fire basin to coax the embers back to life so that she could warm her bath water.

Clarke scooted out of bed and stumbled to the nearby trunk, a pleasant ache throbbing between her thighs, as she dug through the clothes that had long since been replaced with attire that fit both of the women in search for an outfit. She settled on black pants, the material bunched and ribbed at the knees, a light grey shirt, and a long leather overcoat that was rimmed in brown fur at the collar and cuffs. When she had fitted herself in the outfit and laced up her boots, she pulled her untamed hair into a single braid down her shoulder and shifted towards the flaps that partitioned off the bedroom from the rest of the tent. She kept her eyes down, avoiding the sight of Lexa lounging naked in the tub as to keep temptation as far from her mind as possible, leaning only to push a gentle kiss to the Commander's lips when Lexa grabbed her wrist as she tried to scoot by.

"I will be out shortly, Clarke," Lexa called from behind her in one last attempt to draw the blonde's gaze before she shook her head and ducked out of the room.

Clarke stopped, stuttering for a moment when she found Titus waiting in the other room that had been converted to the new war council chambers. He lingered by the door as if he'd just walked in, his dull eyes surveying the crumpled papers on the table and the random articles of clothing strewn about the room. Clarke felt a particular blush of embarrassment when her eyes wandered to a lone pair of panties hanging over the side of a metal fire basin, half singed and charred where they had touched burning coals. The Flamekeeper heaved a visible sigh, rolling his dull brown eyes before taking a step further into the room, his long grey robes billowing behind him. 

"Titus," Clarke said when she finally managed to find her voice. "Lexa is preparing for the day, but she'll be out soon. What are you doing here?" she asked.

The older man stared at her for a moment, clenching his jaw as he contemplated his words. "I actually came to see you, Clarke," he spoke with a slight edge of hesitation. "Would you join me?" he asked, motioning to the daybed and lounge chair across from it at the other side of the room.

Clarke nodded, her apprehension replaced with curiosity as she followed the man over to the couch and sank down in the chair across from him. She wasn't entirely comfortable being alone in a room with Titus, fully aware of the man's adamant disapproval of her from the start. Part of her believed that the Flamekeeper hated her; that he thought she was weak and Lexa's feelings for her only made the Commander weak in turn, placing both of their lives in constant danger. But another part of her thought that the man maybe held her in some respect, seeing the way she fought for her people and the capacity in which she loved and cared for both Aden and Lexa. His gaze met hers as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring with unwavering brown eyes into Clarke's own as if searching for something hidden within them.

" _Azgeda_ draws near," he said after a moment as if picking out the first thing that came to mind to break the cold ice that had settled between them.

Clarke nodded her understanding feeling increasingly uncomfortable beneath the older man's scrutinizing gaze. "We'll be ready for them," she assured, lending strength and confidence to her voice in an attempt to mask her unease.

Titus sighed heavily, like he was struggling to fight with the words he was trying to say. "I came here to tell you that I was wrong, Clarke," he said, tone falling so quiet that it was barely audible. "About you and your people." 

Clarke was stunned, too shocked to form a coherent thought yet alone words. “Titus, I—

She started but he held up a hand, quickly cutting her off. “Please, Clarke, just allow me to speak,” he said and she slowly nodded her agreement. “I have been Flamekeeper to four Commanders before _Leksa kom Trikru_ , and I watched all four of them flounder and fall. I watched one die in place of the person he loved, I watched another perish because she loved another and could not bear life without them after they’d been killed. I saw the others fall at the hands of assassins because the other clan leaders saw weakness in their resolve to lead,” he explained, his voice cracking with emotion as his walls crumbled. “I was there when Ice Nation delivered Costia’s head to Lexa’s bedchamber. I watched the way she fell apart and I feared that I would lose her too, that her downfall would be caused by the anguish of losing the girl she loved far too much. And it was that love for Lexa that got Costia killed in the first place. It is my belief in all of this that love is undeniably a weakness,” he stated.

Titus cleared his throat and continued on as Clarke watched him intently. “What I failed to see, Clarke of the Sky People, is that in every weakness, there also lies the strength to overcome it. I thought the way Lexa cared for you would inevitably lead to a tragic end for one or both of you, and I could not let the Commander’s emotions dictate the future of our entire civilization. But I was wrong. Lexa’s love for you, her love for Aden, makes her stronger. It gives her hope for a better future, and hope is the one and only thing that is stronger than fear.”

“So you’re saying that love is _not_ weakness?” she asked, sensing he had reached a point where he was waiting for her acknowledgement.

“I’m saying that love _is_ weakness, but it is also strength; far stronger than any other emotion. It is Lexa’s responsibility to separate feelings from duty, but I believe that her feelings are perhaps why she is such an inspiring leader. She loves her people without question and rules with a wisdom far beyond her years, and those that follow her see that and love her for it in turn. But she also loves you, Clarke, and it is her love for you that has kept her alive,” the Flamekeeper revealed. “You have given her something to fight for. There is a fire in her eyes that I haven’t seen in years and it is one that will not be snuffed out. She fights for a better future for our people, but she also fights for a future with you,” he said, echoing the Commander’s words from the night before. “And it is that hope that will win us this war. I have you to thank for that.”

Clarke felt a smile spring to life on her features, offering the stoic man a slight grin of appreciation though she wasn’t sure if this was actually happening or if she was imagining it. “I love her too, you know,” she replied. “More than I could ever put into words.”

He nodded. “I know you do, Clarke. You are what kept her alive in her fight against Roan, you are the one who saved Aden’s life, you are the reason our people have found hope and strength in fighting beside yours. I was wrong about you, Clarke,” he whispered. “And for that, I humbly ask your forgiveness.”

“You have it,” Clarke answered, standing slowly and extending her hand, feeling a rush of pride when he stood in turn and gripped her wrist with respect and admiration.

Their exchange was interrupted as the flaps to the tent burst open and a scrawny, fumbling figure stumbled into the room. Jasper was clearly drunk, as evident by the fact that he swayed where he stood and wreaked of booze, the scent wafting off of him as if he had bathed in the stuff. He glanced up and noticed Clarke and Titus, his faded eyes going instantly darker when they fell upon the blonde. He was wearing a white t-shirt, arms and face flushed red from the warmth of alcohol in his blood despite the biting winter cold. His jeans were wet above the kneecaps as if he had stumbled and fell in the snow on his way there and his brown hair had grown down below his ears since the last time Clarke had seen him, matted and tangled with chunks of what looked like vomit clinging to it. He looked as if he had lost another twenty pounds and there were deep sunken circles around his eyes from obvious lack of sleep, but even in his drunken state, Clarke could not mistake the threat that lumbered in his swaying stance, glaring at her as if attempting to melt a hole through her forehead with his gaze.

“Well, if it isn’t the Angel of Death,” he slurred, his words coming out far more recognizable than his appearance. 

“Jasper?” Clarke questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s your fierce Commander, Clarke?” he asked in return. “Aren’t you two usually stuck together at the hip?”

She didn’t know why, but she knew she had to lie, overwhelming sirens screaming _danger_ in the back of her mind. “She’s not here. She’s over in the medical wing with my mom,” Clarke answered. She moved to take a step towards the boy, holding her hands out in front of her to show that she meant no harm, but instantly freezing in her tracks when he reached back into the waistline of his pants and produced a gun.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he shouted, pointing the weapon in her direction and brandishing it with a shaking, unsteady hand.

Clarke’s eyes darted to the bedroom at the back of the tent, instantly feeling the need to put herself between this boy and Lexa. Her gaze flicked over to where her own gun sat in its holster on the floor, discarded sloppily from their escapades the night before. She was about to make a move for it, knowing that it would likely result in a bullet to the head, when Titus stepped calmly in front of her. His stance was protective, using his arm to gently corral her further behind his large frame, putting his own body between Clarke and the dangerous end of the gun held by an increasingly unstable boy. She might have been awed by the gesture if she wasn’t so terrified, her heart practically beating out of her chest in fear when Jasper’s eyes shifted towards the door at the back of the tent. 

The boy laughed and it was deranged and husky, filled with malice and tinged with his own brand of insanity, mad with grief at the loss of Maya. “I told you, Clarke,” he chuckled. “I told you that one day you will feel the pain that I feel and that I’d be there to watch it,” he said, taking a step towards the bedroom.

“She’s not back there!” Titus stammered out, halting Jasper for just a moment as cold realization dawned over them: he was here to kill Lexa. “Clarke spoke the truth. She is in the medical bay with Abby.”

Jasper eyed them curiously appearing as if for a second he believed them in his drunken stupor. But then Clarke’s world shattered as the flaps at the back of the tent parted and Lexa stepped into the room. “Clarke?” she called, eyes to the floor as she braided her hair. She stopped immediately in her tracks the moment she glanced up and witnessed Jasper brandishing a gun, first towards Clarke and Titus and then in her own direction. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her tone calm despite the perilous danger of their situation.

Clarke knew that she had to diffuse the situation, opening her mouth to speak just as everything seemed to shift into slow motion. The trembling gun in Jasper’s hand clicked as he pulled the hammer back, metal rapping against metal as the bullet slid into the chamber. Clarke moved to throw herself between Lexa and the gun, ready to die in place of the woman she loved, ready to give her very life to ensure Lexa’s safety, but Titus was faster. He shoved Clarke out of the way and dove forward, placing himself between the Commander and the bullet as the sound of the gun went off, ringing so loudly in Clarke’s ears that it could have been a blast of thunder right above tent. 

Titus’s brown eyes went wide with surprise and shock as the bullet sank deep into his abdomen, a crimson ring of blood instantly lining the small hole before his knees even hit the ground. Clarke heard the click of the gun again as Jasper loaded a second shot, but Lexa was faster, reaching down and retrieving the knife she always concealed in her boot before hurling it towards their attacker without a second of hesitation. The knife flipped violently through the air with precision and speed, plunging into Jasper’s chest with a heavy _thunk_ as the blade undoubtedly pierced his foul heart. The scrawny boy crumpled to the ground in a motionless heap as a thin trail of blood escape his parted lips, his lifeless eyes staring directly at Clarke in silent accusation.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s frantic voice called, breaking her daze and pulling her quickly from the grips of terror and regret. The Commander was hunched over Titus, mumbling words in _Trigedasleng_ as she fumbled with the robes around his wound. “Help!”

Clarke reacted instantly, rushing over to the Flamekeeper where he was staring up at her with wide eyes that were quickly fading. She dropped to her knees, covering the oozing wound with her hands as she attempted to apply pressure. The gunshot must have been heard throughout the camp because a moment later Bellamy and Lincoln rushed into the tent, both of their expressions shifting from alarmed to complete shock as they surveyed the room. Jasper’s body was lifeless by the door of the tent while Clarke and Lexa were knelt over Titus, each of them stacking their hands over his wound to try and keep his lifeblood from pouring out.

“Get my mom!” Clarke screamed and Bellamy instantly reacted, turning and fleeing from the room in search of the doctor. “Lincoln, help us get him to the bed,” she commanded. Lincoln obeyed, rushing over and scooping the older man into his arms while Clarke kept pressure on the wound, pushing into the bedroom and lowering Titus onto the white fur duvet.

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

Clarke surveyed the wound again, lifting her hands slowly to see exactly where the bullet had hit and then quickly trying to plug the hole again as it spurted and bubbled blood. “His abdominal aorta has been hit,” she whispered, doing everything in her power to maintain control of her emotions. “Lexa I— I don’t think I can save him,” she admitted. “He’ll bleed out before my mom even gets here.”

The Commander’s features fell immediately as tears sprung up in her emerald green eyes, rimming them with red and not attempting to hide it when a few escaped and slid down her cheeks. She shifted to where Titus’s head was on the pillow, and he stared up at her with calm, knowing eyes as she scooped his hand into her own. The white fur beneath his body was already stained red as blood continued to pour out of his wound and down onto the bed. He seemed to accept his fate, nodding once as a weak trembling hand reached up to pull Clarke’s hands away, allowing the blood to flow more freely.

He glanced towards Lexa, tugging her down so that she could hear his dying words. “I am so proud of you, _Leksa kom Trikru_ ,” he whispered and the sentiments instantly yanked tears from Clarke’s eyes, flooding down her face as her heart shattered with grief. “I always have been. You will finally bring peace to our people.”

“I promise you that I will,” Lexa answered, voice cracking as she attempted to control the sob that threatened to paralyze her.

“You are the only one who can,” he whispered, the light slowly starting to fade from his eyes.

“Thank you, teacher,” the Commander answered, bringing a shaky hand up to run soothingly over Titus’s forehead. “You saved my life.”

The man let the faintest smile tug up the corner of his mouth as if even that tiny effort expended far too much of his draining energy. “It has always been my duty to protect you,” he answered. “And now it is yours,” he added, eyes shifting to meet Clarke’s.

Clarke nodded her understanding, searching for the strength to speak. “Always,” she rasped. “I will always protect her.”

Titus gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as his breathing grew labored. “ _Ai gonplei ste odon_ ,” he whispered.

Blood escaped the edge of his mouth and trailed slowly down his chin, but he didn’t seem to notice. Lexa was gripping his hand so tightly that her knuckles were white, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as clear pain wove itself into her usually impassive features. She looked devastated, as a child would look when saying goodbye to a parent for the last time, and Clarke’s heart broke for her. She knew the pain, the brutal, heart-stopping, earth-shattering pain that came with watching a parent die and in the Commander’s face, she saw the familiar sight of a girl saying goodbye to her father. There were no words of comfort that she could offer, no embrace or sentiment that would ever help to ease the pain that Lexa was feeling in that moment, but there was something she could do to ease his passing.

She scooped Titus’s free hand in her own, feeling how cold and lifeless his fingers already were though his chest still labored roughly. She spoke, hearing the crack of her voice behind a sob of her own as thoughts of her own father raced through her mind and tore through her aching heart. “In peace, may you leave the shore,” she whispered hoarsely. “In love, may you find the next.” Titus’s breathing grew quiet as he started to drift away into the endless oblivion. “Safe passage on your travels,” Clarke continued on, forcing the words from her mouth. “Until our final journey on the ground. May we meet again,” she finished. 

With her prayer echoing in the deafening silence around them, the Flamekeeper was gone.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“What the hell happened?” Bellamy growled, slamming his fist down on the table. There were tears in his deep brown eyes and his lower lip was quivering. Raven stood beside him, crying silent tears of her own and stroking his arm in an attempt to calm him.

Clarke stood beside Lexa at the other end, trying to make sense of what just happened in her own mind, staring blankly ahead in a state of shock. Her hands were still caked with the deep rust color of Titus’s dried blood though both bodies had been removed from the tent. Lexa hovered next to her, green eyes distant as if remembering some far away memory, the tear tracks on her face dried as she allowed her impassive mask to take over her features, disguising any sign of devastation or pain. Abby, Kane and Pike were dealing with the bodies and the aftermath of informing Jasper’s closest friends of his death while Octavia and Lincoln were tasked with gathering enough wood to construct a funeral pyre for Titus, as was the Grounder tradition. Luna stood just behind Lexa, concealing her own emotions behind a stoic wall, the only sign of her discomfort being the slight comforting hand she placed on the Commander’s shoulder.

“Clarke!” Bellamy demanded, his voice rising to a shout as he struggled to contain his rage. “Care to tell me how Jasper ended up with a knife in his chest?”

Clarke’s head snapped up at that, cold steel settling in her nerves, turning them to ice as her gaze met Bellamy’s. “Care to tell me how that psycho ended up with a gun?” she snarled, her tone low and menacing.

“He said he needed it to protect himself!” Bellamy argued. “I guess he was right, wasn’t he?” he questioned, motioning towards the Commander where she stared straight ahead, not speaking.

“Bellamy,” Raven whispered from over his shoulder. “Maybe you should just listen before reacting for once…”

The boy’s expression twisted in anger, flushing red, but before he could come up with a retort, Clarke found herself speaking through clenched teeth and boiling rage. “How dare you,” she seethed. “How dare you come in here accusing Lexa and pointing fingers when you don’t even know what happened!” 

“Clarke, I just think—

He began, but she held up a hand, sharply cutting him off. “No!” she growled. “Did you consider that it was maybe Jasper who was the aggressor?” she asked. “Did you even think that it was Jasper who came in here, stumbling drunk, waving a gun in my face and trying to murder Lexa?” she questioned relentlessly.

Bellamy’s eyes fell as the anger faded from his features, replaced by shame. “No,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I didn’t think so,” Clarke replied. “Which means you obviously didn’t consider that the man who practically raised Lexa just gave his life to save her, and that she reacted in self defense. So maybe you should keep your accusations to yourself, and try to show a little respect!” she snapped, voice echoing in the surrounding silence.

Clarke felt a gentle hand slide over her shoulder, pulling her back from the brink of boiling indignation. “It is okay, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her tone was soft, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“No, it’s not,” Clarke answered.

“Look, I’m sorry, Clarke,” Bellamy said. “Just, Jasper is…was…one of ours.”

“And Lexa is mine,” Clarke retorted. “She has done more for our people than anyone, and it is her that you owe the apology, not me.”

Bellamy nodded his understanding, fueled further by the squeeze Raven gave on his upper bicep. “I apologize, Commander,” he said. “You deserved a chance to explain. And I’m sorry about Titus. From what I knew of him, he was a good man.”

“Yes, he was,” Lexa agreed, the pain flashing in her eyes was enough to break Clarke’s already torn heart. “I understand the pain of the loss of your friend, Bellamy. You are forgiven. But now is not the time for us to fall apart,” she said. “War is knocking on our door. The time for grieving will come later. The dead are gone, and our priority is with the living. We must be united in this.”

The group fell silent and it was evident on their own grief stricken faces that they were wondering how Lexa could be so calm in the wake of such a tumultuous event. Then Clarke remembered how calm Lexa had been after the death of Gustus, and how steady her hand had been in the blow that delivered his swift death. It occurred to her then that the death of loved ones and close friends was nothing new to the Commander, and that her duty to keep her people safe came before her own emotional need to grieve and allow herself a moment of weakness. Clarke sucked in a deep breath and hardened her own nerves, pushing the sight of Jasper’s lifeless eyes and the sound of Titus’s dying words far from her mind, sticking them behind her own wall.

“Lexa is right,” she agreed, hardening herself. “How are the preparations coming, Raven?” she asked. “Are we ready?”

Raven gave Bellamy’s arm a tug, ushering him aside so that she could be seen. “Sinclair is planting the charges right now,” she answered. “The wall is complete. Our people are just waiting on orders.”

“Are the rovers fueled? Do we have enough ammunition? Do the gunners and archers know their positions?” she questioned, firing off one after another in an attempt to ease the rapidly growing ball of nerves in her stomach.

“Yes, Clarke,” Bellamy replied. “We’re as ready as we’re gonna get.”

Clarke sighed, nodding and accepting the words though she knew that no matter how prepared they were, she would always feel like they could do more. “Then I guess all there’s left to do is wait,” she surrendered.

“I’ll go see if Sinclair needs a hand,” Raven said. “Bell, you should probably go check on Monty…” she trailed off. Jasper’s best friend was undoubtedly in a state of dismay and grief at the news of his death.

Bellamy agreed, offering Lexa a slight head dip before turning and following Raven out of the room. “I will oversee the construction of the funeral pyre,” Luna said, trailing after the others. “He deserves for it to be done correctly.”

“Thank you, Luna,” Lexa replied. Clarke could hear the slight tremble of grief in her voice, but her willpower and walls were far too strong to let anything more than that show.

Luna swept out of the room and again Clarke and Lexa found themselves alone, leaning forward with their heads over the table and staring blankly at the scattered blueprints. There were deep red bloodstains in the carpet by the door and more towards the flaps at the back of the tent, and Clarke knew that if she were to step into the bedroom, she would see crimson tainting the white fur duvet over the bed. The fire basins around the room were snuffed out and the candles had not yet been replaced, the only source of light being the faint flicker of sunlight streaming through the canvas walls, but the room itself was dim for the most part. It was fitting, Clarke thought, dark and drab and dreary and completely lacking the warmth that usually illuminated the makeshift hall, much like the darkness that lingered in Lexa’s eyes that were usually alight with a glowing green warmth of their own.

“Lex,” Clarke whispered, sliding her hand over the surface of the table to rest over Lexa’s.

“He stepped in front of you, Clarke,” Lexa returned, lost in a world of her own. “He was protecting you.”

“He was,” she confirmed. “He came here to tell me that he was wrong about me and my people. He was here to say that our love, my love for you and yours for me, is not weakness. He would have wanted you to know that.”

Lexa stared at her for a moment, blinking behind dazed green eyes as if she couldn’t believe the words Clarke was trying to tell her. “Titus was never one to practice his preaching,” she said when she finally found her voice. “He loved me, and he died for me.”

“He did love you,” Clarke replied. “That much was clear. But it wasn’t his love for you that got him killed, I hope you know that,” she added. “His duty to protect you is why he jumped in front of that bullet, but his love for you is what gave him the strength to do it.”

“No, Clarke,” she whispered. “His love for me is why he tried to protect you.”  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The snow fell lightly over Arkadia, swirling and flurrying wistfully in the evening air as a full bright moon glowed from beyond the thin cloud cover against the black of the winter night. _Skaikru_ and Grounders alike gathered around the unlit funeral pyre where two bodies laid side by side, covered by a blank white sheet and waiting to be put to rest as was the Grounder custom. Finn’s body had been burned with the eighteen he’d killed in the village, and Jasper’s body would burn alongside Titus so that they both may find peace in the afterlife together. She wasn’t exactly sure what she believed happened after death, but Lexa was firm in her beliefs that death was not the end, and if the last few months had taught her anything, it was not to question the faith of others. Deep down she felt as if she had known Lexa for her entire life and perhaps even before that, as if they had been together in many lifetimes before and their souls had found their way back to each other in this one. She wanted to believe that was the way that it would always be; that in the face of perilous danger and on the brink of annihilation, she and Lexa would always find their way back.

Beside Clarke, the Commander stood at the head of the unburned structure, staring ahead, lost in her own thoughts though her expression remained blank. She was dressed as if preparing to plunge into the heart of battle, her shoulder armor accentuated by the red cape that fluttered down to her ankles and dragged through the snow at her feet. She was clad in a heavy black overcoat, lined with fur and strapped across her chest closing over the metal guarder that rimmed her waist. Her sword dangled in its sheath at her side, her arm resting absently on it while her other hand clutched a flaming torch. Her wild brown hair was braided in intricate strands down her back, hanging loosely down her shoulders and pulled back off her face. Her striking green eyes, glistening in the moonlight and bright from unshed tears she had been holding in throughout the day, were framed in her signature streaking black war paint, dipping down her sharp cheekbones in pointed stripes.

She appeared fierce and stoic, her posture rigid and imposing, commanding and practically forceful despite the fact that she had not yet spoken a word. Luna stood to her right, her own impassive features slightly fallen with a hint of sadness at the corners of her mouth. Clarke knew that the _Floukru_ leader and the Flamekeeper did not see eye to eye on many things and that their relationship had ended the day she fled the conclave, but Titus had raised Luna alongside Lexa and the rest of the novitiates and it was clear that the girl still mourned his untimely passing. Her unruly brown hair splayed down her shoulders, flowing out over a black overcoat lined with netting and braided blue fabric around the cuffs. The style of the clans was subtly unique, although they all wore thick overcoats to protect against the harsh winter weather, they were different in their own ways that lent a hint as to which clan they belonged. Luna carried a spear strapped across her back, the grip ensued with frayed and knotted rope, the tip lethally sharp and looking as if the metal had been forged with pieces of sea glass.

Indra, Octavia and Lincoln stood together behind their Commander, lending strength and support through their presence rather than spoken words. Octavia had two swords strapped across her back, her grassy green eyes framed in war paint of their own, smoky black and streaming down her face in two blotchy lines that ended just above her jawline. Lincoln’s face belonged to a black mask as well, two solid lines, one cutting through each deep brown eye as his hand gripped the sword at his waist. Indra was the only one who did not sport war paint, but her stoic expression was intimidating on its own, the lack of black paint doing nothing to take away from her solid strength and lethal beauty.

Clarke was not surprised by the presence of the entire _Skaikru_ council and the majority of their people, standing across the funeral pyre and intermingled throughout the crowd of Grounders. Bellamy held Raven against his solid chest, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned her weight against him, her own arms crossed over her chest. Pike stood at their side, looking regal in his mixture of Grounder and _Skaikru_ attire, his expression hard and carrying something that looked like deep shame and regret. Clarke didn’t miss the heavy rifles slung over each of their shoulders, ready to spring into battle the moment the occasion finally arrived. There was no clear divide between the Sky People and the Grounders, intermingled and mixed together in a crowd, though none of them spoke as if the entire camp was holding its breath in anticipation.

She felt Lexa suck in a sharp breath beside her, nearly startling her out of her silent observations as her eyes snapped up to where Lexa was staring in mild horror while the color drained from her face. Abby and Kane were slowly guiding a limping Aden out of the medbay, the boy’s brow already drenched in sweat and blue eyes narrowed in concentration. He had his good arm slung around Kane’s shoulders while Abby gently placed a hand beneath the elbow of his injured shoulder where his arm was strapped securely to his chest. His leg was in a cast, though Abby had wrapped it in plastic to protect it from the snow, and his head was still bound with thick winding white bandages, messy strands of blonde poking out from beneath. She understood why Lexa appeared so shocked, she herself was terrified at the fact that her mother, a fucking _doctor_ , would allow a patient that had just undergone traumatic brain surgery out of bed.

Lexa took a step towards them when Aden paused for a moment to catch his breath, the small effort he exuded enough to have him gasping for air, coming out in rapid white plumes. But she froze in her tracks when his determined eyes glanced up and held up a single hand to stop her advances, her shoulders went even more rigid, frozen somewhere between staying in place and rushing to his side. Clarke shot Abby a questioning glower, but the doctor looked just as horrified, offering an apologetic glance and a slight roll of her eyes. Aden steadied himself, leaning slightly more of his weight on Kane’s ready shoulders as he took another few tentative steps forward. By the time he reached the Commander’s side, his chest was heaving and his legs were trembling, but his expression was resolute despite the bright tinge of red in his cheeks.

“Doctor Griffin?” Lexa questioned beneath an arched eyebrow and clenched jaw.

Abby shook her head back and forth, her own displeasure evident in her fallen features. “He wanted to be with you. And he was coming out here with or without our help,” she explained.

“Heda,” Aden rasped, steady despite the exhaustion that had clearly seeped in. “It is my duty to stand at your side and honor Titus in his passing.”

“Aden,” Lexa replied, placing a tender hand on his uninjured shoulder. “It is your duty to rest and heal.”

“I will,” he assured her. “But I’m staying. With you.”

Lexa sighed, her green eyes contemplating as she surveyed her young novitiate, scanning over him with worry as if he was about to fall to pieces right before her. Clarke didn’t blame her. “Very well,” Lexa relinquished, glancing behind the boy to Abby who gave her a single nod, standing solemnly beside Aden so that she could monitor him.

The Commander turned back to the task at hand, staring at the shrouded figure on the funeral pyre like her gaze itself was powerful enough to will her teacher back to life. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders deflating with the motion as she stepped forward, clutching the burning torch in her left hand with white knuckles. Her face was concealed behind her mask of war paint and hidden beneath the dark shadows of the moon, but when she looked up, her eyes were clear and burning with a new resolve.

When she spoke, her voice was loud and clear, falling in waves over the hushed crowd of both sky and ground. Clarke knew that it was not the Grounder way to drown solemn moments in words and that their culture spoke with actions rather than voices, but in that moment, with death knocking at their door, Lexa said exactly what needed to be heard by all. “There are things in this life that we do not want to happen, but have to accept,” she began, her tone unwavering. “There will be things we don’t want to know, but have to learn, and there will undoubtedly be times when we lose people we cannot live without, but have to let go. The most certain thing in this life is that not one of us will live forever, but each of us have an opportunity to leave a legacy that will,” she said, stepping forward.

Lexa tossed the torch onto the wood structure where it had been doused in gasoline, instantly catching fire that devoured the pyre in hungry yellow flames that gave off enough heat to thaw the chilly winter night. The blaze illuminated the faces that had gathered around to pay tribute to the dead, casting them in warmth and dancing light as the fire crept up towards the shrouded bodies. Across the flames, Clarke could see where Monty stood huddled in his mother’s arms, shaking his head with tears flowing freely down his cheeks even as he tried to hold them back, stricken by the loss of his best friend. 

Clarke felt a pang of pain and regret of her own, remembering the excited boy with a passion for life and pretty girls that had been plunked down on the drop ship with her when the Hundred first came to the Ground. Jasper had been kind and daring, his goofy smile beneath the goggles that never left his head enough to make anyone laugh despite the severity of the situation. She recalled that boy, and couldn’t help but feel that it had been her actions that robbed him of the happiness and joy that made his life worth living. He had come undone with Maya’s death, drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle and angry at the world, at Clarke, for taking away the one woman he ever loved. It was that grief and that pain that had driven him to the actions that had resulted in Titus’s death. Even as she felt the guilt sweep through her, she knew that it was misplaced. She had sacrificed those in Mount Weather to save her people, and she would do it again if put in the same situation once more; a leader was often times forced to make impossible decisions to ensure the safety of their people. Lexa had taught her that.

She spared a glance at the Commander and saw the way her sharp jawline was clenching, chewing back her own sorrow as she searched for the strength to continue on. Clarke reached out, taking her trembling hand in her own and giving it a single reassuring squeeze to let her know that she was not alone. Lexa returned the pressure and cleared her throat, letting Clarke’s hand fall gently away before sucking in a deep breath through her nose and continuing on. Clarke knew that she was aching to scoop her hand back up and cling to it, but the eyes of hundreds of their people were on them, and in that moment, the Commander had to maintain her solid front.

“We honor those who have passed not with our grief, but with our gratitude,” she pressed on, speaking now to everyone who had ever lost someone they loved. Clarke instantly thought of Jake and found herself fighting back tears of her own as a dull ache thrummed in her chest. “Gratitude for the things they have taught us and the sacrifices the have made for us, and the memories of them that live on in us. Death is not the end,” she said. “It is just goodbye until we meet again.”

Lexa finished just as the flames reached the shrouded bodies at the top of the pyre, engulfing them with a fire that would surely leave behind nothing but ash and memories. “ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she heard the Commander whisper, committing Titus’s spirit to whatever afterlife the universe may hold for him. Clarke knew that the Grounders believed in reincarnation, and she hoped that if their beliefs were true, Titus would return as something as wise and fearless as he had been in this life. She hoped that he would live in a time where there were no wars where he could live and love freely without a single thought of weakness.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” Clarke repeated, for Titus and for her father.

The funeral pyre burned long into the night, devouring every inch of wood and leaving nothing in its wake, though the crowd had stayed to the bitter end. There was a sense of unity and companionship among the camp and the need to be together and draw strength from one another was prominent and almost desperate in the bitter air. There was silent understanding that this could very well be their last night on earth, and not one person had wanted to leave, hoping to spend every moment they could with the people they loved and those that they had grown to care about. Only Aden had been whisked back inside after Lexa’s moving memorial speech, against his will, but on strict doctor’s orders. The rest of the council milled about, speaking in hushed tones as if audible voices would shatter the atmosphere of respect and internal reflection that the Commander had set.

However, the peaceful mourning was crushed as soon as a frantic rider came bursting through the gate on horseback, practically flying out of the saddle before the animal had a chance to skid to a sudden halt. “Heda!” he said frantically, eyes wild and brimming with fear as he rushed to stand before Lexa. “Ice Nation approaches! It’s starting!”  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Controlled chaos ensued after that, far less hectic than Clarke would have imagined at the news that an army of thousands was knocking at their door. People immediately rushed to gather their weapons; the Grounders far more composed than the Sky People, hard trained for their entire lives and prepared for battle. Pike and Kane quickly headed towards their positions on the wall, searching for their sharpshooter units and directing them towards the guard towers. Lexa and Clarke exchanged sidelong glances, both filled with trepidation and a slight tinge of fear, though they would never show that same level of vulnerability to their people who were looking to them to lead them through the night.

Lexa gave Clarke a single nod, before sucking in a steadying breath and turning to bark orders. “Get all of our forces behind the wall and then shut the gate!” she commanded, and Indra instantly obeyed, rushing out to the tents beyond the wall to relay orders to the rest of the clan generals. “Abby, get to the medbay and prepare for incoming patients,” Lexa continued on, this time looking directly at the doctor.

Abby acknowledged the Commander, but instead of racing off to the medbay, she lingered a moment to pull Clarke into a tight embrace. “Clarke,” she whispered, her voice cracking behind her own fear. “Please be safe.”

Clarke returned her mother’s hug, burying her head in her shoulder and breathing in the scent of antibacterial soap and lavender that clung to Abby no matter where she was. “Mom,” she whispered urgently. “If they breach the gates, take Aden out of the tunnels below the back fence and run. Do not let them take him,” she pleaded, allowing her own desperation to seep into her voice.

Abby nodded, pulling back and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I will,” she said. “I promise.” She gave Clarke one last, lingering squeeze before she turned her attention to Lexa and pulled the Commander in a tight embrace of her own. “Bring my daughter back to me, Lexa,” she said, issuing a command of her own to the Commander.

Lexa stood stiffly in her arms, aware that the eyes of her entire army were on her in that moment, but then slowly allowed herself to return the embrace with just one arm across Abby’s lower back. “I will protect her with my life, Doctor Griffin,” she spoke. “You have my word.”

The doctor stepped away from the hug, giving a single nod in understanding and turning quickly away with tears in her eyes, rushing in the direction of the medical wing before she could change her mind and stay by Clarke’s side. Clarke offered Lexa an apologetic shrug, but didn’t dwell on it for too long as Raven and Sinclair rushed towards her side, each wearing expressions of both fear and excitement mingled together in the faint glow of the covered moon. Raven clutched what appeared to be a detonator in her right hand, giving Clarke a slight eye-brow waggle despite the nerves that were evident in her features.

“You ready to blow these bitches sky high, Princess?” she asked, downplaying the situation in typical Raven fashion.

“As ready as one will ever be to charge towards what is likely certain death,” Clarke scoffed sarcastically, but wiped the smirk from her face when she noticed the fall in Raven’s shoulders. “We’re going to be fine, Ray,” she said, far more seriously. “We’re ready for this. Let’s do it.”

“I’ll meet you up on the wall,” Raven replied, grabbing Sinclair by the arm and pulling him in the direction of the nearest guard tower.

Indra rushed back through the gate at that moment, signaling the all clear as the last of the Grounders flooded in behind her. “Shut the gates!” Lexa shouted, her distinct voice resounding out above the noise of the chaos around them. “Indra, are the gunners and archers in position in the trees?” she asked.

The stoic _Trikru_ warrior nodded, reaching up to tighten her shoulder armor in place across her chest. Her brown eyes were fierce and practically burning, and her posture appeared as if she was ready to spring into an attack at any moment. It was clear that she was a battle-hardened warrior, forged in combat and bred to fight. “We are ready, Heda,” she replied, dipping her head slightly.

“Good,” Lexa answered, reaching out and clasping Indra’s wrist against her own. “I will need you to lead the charge in my stead while we hunt down Nia.”

Indra nodded once more, her expression revealing something that closely resembled pride on her stony features. “It would be my honor, Heda,” she said.

“Then may we meet again, Indra,” Lexa replied, releasing the warriors wrist and turning to Clarke. “Are you ready?” she asked, her tone soft and delicate as if asking permission.

Clarke sucked in a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly in an attempt to steady her shattered nerves. “Let’s do this, Lex,” she said.

Lexa nodded once and took her hand, clasping it tightly as she pulled her in the direction of the guard tower that Raven and Sinclair had wandered off to. Clarke felt a wave of relief when Lexa did not release her hand as they hurried towards the top of the wall, grateful for the warmth and calming sensation that the simple contact provided. She was sure that if Lexa had not been clinging so tightly to her, she might have come undone and lost herself in the fear that was threatening to grip her soul, but Lexa’s hand in hers was a tether to the ground. When they reached the guard tower, the Commander finally let go, ushering Clarke up before her so that she could climb the ladder next.

In the tower, high above the bustling crowd and sea of tents beyond the other side of the wall, they had a clear view all the way to the tree line. It was as if the moon wanted to see the spectacle, breaking through the clouds just in time to illuminate the barren camp before them. Though the tents were empty, fires burned and various different animals roasted, lending the scent of cooking meat to the cold night air and giving off the illusion that the camp was occupied. Raven, Sinclair and a few other shooters waited in the bunker at the top of the tower as Clarke and then Lexa climbed in, surveying the soon-to-be battlefield for themselves. Twenty yards down the wall, Clarke could just make out Bellamy and Kane in the next guard tower over, issuing orders to gunners and archers that positioned themselves across the platform that ran across the inner side of the wall.

Pike stood below the platform, directing warriors into place alongside Indra, moving some in the direction of the tunnels at the back of Arkadia. The Grounders listened to him, despite the fact that he was not one of their own, and it gave Clarke a well of uneasy pride at how far their two people had come. They were working together in perfect unison towards a common goal, despite the overwhelming odds and the unrest that was surely coursing through each person’s veins, they stood united: intent on survival.

The entire camp fell to an eerie silence as the last of the warriors shifted into place and the shouting orders faded away to nothing more than quick commands and hushed directives. Lexa stood rigidly beside Clarke, staring out at the expanse of canvas huts in front of them that appeared to be laden with an unsuspecting Grounder army, asleep and waiting to be ambushed. In another life, Clarke imagined that _Skaikru_ and Ice Nation could just have easily been swapped had she never met Lexa, and that it could be her own people sneaking in to a camp full of sleeping Grounders to slaughter unsuspecting victims. She shook the dark thought aside and let her hand close around Lexa’s for just a moment, giving it a reassuring squeeze and thanking whatever powers at be that their fates and the fates of their people had intertwined themselves together rather than torn each other apart.

Lexa glanced over at Clarke, the silver of the moon reflecting brightly in the green of her eyes, easily mirroring the stretch of moonlit forest laid out in front of them. Clarke offered her a nervous half-smile, willing her to see that she believed their plan would work, and that she had faith in Lexa and that she trusted her with her life and the lives of her people; the lives of _their_ people. Lexa gave her a slight single nod, showing her understanding in the way that she always did, knowing exactly what Clarke was thinking without having the need for words and explanations.

They waited. They waited for what felt like hours, discretely exchanging calming hand squeezes and glances of comfort as their eyes stayed diligently trained on the motionless tree line in front of them. With every beat of her heart, Clarke felt like the moments were ticking by, the air stagnant and festering with anticipation. Her blood that had run cold when the warrior came crashing into Arkadia announcing the arrival of Ice Nation, had long since thawed and was now coursing with nerves and a slight tinge of impatience. She let out a shaky breath, watching as it puffed and floated away in a white cloud in front of her, blinking a few times at the way it made the trees shift and swirl before her.

But the movement lasted even after the breath dissipated in the cold night air, followed by a flash of silver against the moonlight. Her heart leapt into her throat and her hand instantly shot into Lexa’s once more, though the Commander was already stiff and rigid, her palm clammy at having noticed the motion on the tree line well before Clarke. She didn’t notice it at first, but she was holding her breath as she watched figure after figure slip from the tree line, dark silhouettes beneath the bright light of the full moon where it broke through the thick cloud cover. Warrior after warrior filtered into the empty camp, weaving their way through the tents as they readied themselves for what they thought would be an ambush. Little did they know that they were walking into a trap, the huts filled with nothing more than powerful explosives, and the trees around them filled with archers and gunners waiting for the signal to strike.

“Commander?” Raven asked, looking back and forth between the rapidly approaching Ice Nation army and where Lexa stood staring impassively ahead.

“Wait,” Lexa replied, holding up her free hand in response, the other still clinging tightly to Clarke. “Not yet. Wait until they give the command to attack.”

Raven nodded slightly, her trembling thumb hovering over the detonator as they allowed more and more enemy warriors to file into their trap. Another few moments ticked by and then a loud voice filled the silence in the distance, “ _Kom Azgeda_!” it shouted, followed by the war cries of hundreds of Ice Nation soldiers.

Lexa hesitated for only a moment, as if contemplating the sheer death that would follow her order, but then turned and looked at Raven with stone in her eyes and steel in her voice. “Now, Raven,” she commanded.

Raven instantly obeyed, letting her thumb crush down on the detonator in her hand. There was only a moment of delay before the entire camp just beyond the walls of Arkadia exploded in violent flashes of yellow and orange, accompanied with a blast of heat hot enough to bead sweat across Clarke’s brow despite the safe distance from which she stood. There were screams of agony and terror as hundreds of warriors burned alive or suffered the pain of blood loss due to flying shrapnel or the force of the explosion. Fire engulfed what remained of the canvas tents, devouring the enemy army with a hunger for blood and death that was insatiable. Clarke swallowed the thick ball of bile and horror that crept up the back of her throat, the only thing keeping her from losing the contents of her stomach was the knowledge that these warriors were here to kill her people.

The suddenness of the explosion and the overwhelming heat was only enough to deter the Ice Nation army for a moment, but as the flames tore through the canvas tents and other flammable material in the area, all that remained were burning bodies and splotches of random fires amongst smoldering craters. As soon as the fires burned out to a bearable temperature, the Ice Nation army and their allies advanced again, this time swarming through the trees and flooding out into the smoldering battlefield in torrents as if the gates had broken and released a thundering stampede.

“Archers!” Lexa yelled, her voice loud and clear even amongst the chaos. “Gunners!” she yelled over her shoulder to Kane and Bellamy.

Instantly, the tops of the trees surrounding the decimated and charred battlefield erupted with gunshots, echoed by the firing of automatic weapons from the guard towers and platform atop the wall. Clarke looked out and watched as bullets cut through the advancing army, tearing through legs and limbs as cries of pain and death reverberated through the cold winter air. She saw arrows whiz by as well, mowing down the enemy warriors that broke rank and headed too close to the tree line. The entire scene was an absolute bloodbath as the Ice Nation army just kept coming in waves, not caring how many soldiers died as they pushed to advance on Arkadia.

Bodies upon bodies piled up, and the staggering ranks of the Ice Nation army just kept coming, climbing over the fallen even as a hail of bullets and arrows stopped the first row of warriors in their tracks. “Commander!” Bellamy shouted from the next guard tower over. ‘There’s too many!”

Lexa nodded once though Clarke knew that Bellamy was too far away to see the motion. They had anticipated this; they knew that despite all of their technology and planning, the _Azgeda_ numbers were just too great. They knew from the start that they would be able to slow their advance, but they would run out of arrows and bullets long before they could ever hope to stop it entirely. They would have to take this battle to the ground, forgoing their height and the safety of their walls and allow their own army to meet the other in hand to hand combat. They still had the rovers and the gunner units that would ride in them, but there was no avoiding the fact that this was going to be an all out brawl.

“ _Oso gonplei nou ste odon_!” the Commander shouted, loud enough for all to hear and followed by a roar of support from the Coalition army. “Our fight is not over!” she repeated in English for the Sky People. “We will not hide behind our walls any longer. We stand together, united, here and now, and we will not lose!” Again, another roar of encouragement and battle cries erupted and filled the night air as both Sky People and Grounders alike tried to amp themselves up for the inevitable battle to come. “Open the gates!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so a lot just happened. Look, we all know how the show ended up and that bullshit that was Titus killing Lexa with a stray bullet, and like I've done with several of the events, I wanted to move as far away from that load of crap as possible. In writing this the way I did; the fact that Titus, Lexa's deeply religious father figure, finally came to terms with her love for Clarke and accepted it for what it is was something that I really wanted to emphasize with his apology to Clarke. Then, he even tried to protect her, showing that his own love for Lexa was deep enough to sacrifice himself not only for her, but for the woman she loved as well. Finally, I, as a writer, really appreciated the irony in having Titus take the bullet that was meant for Lexa, and I felt that it offered the appropriate contrast to what we got in the show. Intermixed with all of that, we also get to see the strength that Lexa possesses to be able to lose a loved one and still have the ability to command and reassure her people, and I wanted to capture that as well. It's pretty clear where next week is headed, but in case you missed it...the Battle of Arkadia^TM is about to go off. Hope you guys enjoyed this update and the events I chose to change!
> 
> -Alex


	16. Part Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, gays! So, basically I was writing this chapter and it just went on and on with no end in sight when it came to a stopping point, so I decided to split it into two separate updates and then just add a chapter at the end, so we're looking at 18 now instead of 17. I would have loved to fit it all into one, but I didn't want it to feel too rushed, so I hope you'll like the way I've broken it up. There's so much going on in this chapter and I've got to warn you that there are some pretty violent descriptions, so keep that in mind and I'll see you at the end.
> 
> -Alex

The gates of Arkadia burst open as the Coalition forces swarmed out the narrow opening, shouting their battle cries as they rushed towards the advancing Ice Nation army. From the guard tower, Clarke could see Indra and Pike at the front of the pack, leading the charge as they wove through blackened, smoldering craters and over the remains of charred bodies. Lexa’s army followed closely on their heels, not even slowing up as they slammed head on into enemy forces in an echoing crash of weapons and grueling shouts, looking as if waves were crashing and melding inevitably into one. As the last of the Coalition and _Skaikru_ warriors spilled out of the gates, the two rovers revved through the battlefield behind them, manned with gunner units and heavily armored in steel as to not be deterred by enemy arrows and spears.

Once the rovers were loose on the battlefield, the guards pulled the gates shut behind them and sealed the rest of Arkadia in safely, for now, behind high imposing metal walls. Clarke watched as the two rovers parted ways and sped towards the outer ranks of the Ice Nation army, precise gunfire bursting out through slots in the sides and mowing down any enemy that stood in their way as they moved to circle behind the _Azgeda_ ranks to corral them forward toward the waiting Coalition army. With the rovers circling around the outskirts of the battlefield like sharks circling their prey, the Ice Nation forces were thrown into chaos, many of them breaking ranks and heading for the cover of the nearby trees. Except, the Coalition forces were lying in wait just within the tree line too, cutting down the enemy in a hail of arrows and bullets, or dropping down from tethered bungee cords and plucking fleeing soldiers right off the ground.

To the right, Bellamy and his sniper unit were picking off any Ice Nation warriors that managed to break through the wall of Coalition soldiers or any that strayed too far from the center of battle. Clarke worried for a moment that they might miss and hit one of their own, but in the heat of battle it was a risk that had to be taken in order to protect Arkadia. Beside them, Raven picked up a rifle of her own and was firing carefully placed shots at enemy warriors while Sinclair was scurrying about the platform that ran across the top of the wall, using bits of rag soaked in oil to light the Coalition archer’s arrows on fire. Clarke could make out Kane, now in the furthest tower away, signaling with arm motions and waving his unit into place as another rush of _Azgeda_ forces tried to push their way through the defenses.

A horn sounded far off into the distance, ringing loudly even above the sound of cracking gunfire, followed by a distinct low rumbling that had the ground nearly shaking beneath their feet. Behind the masses of the Ice Nation army, Clarke could make out quick movements bursting from the tree line as the _Azgeda_ cavalry thundered onto the battlefield, weaving in and out of the ranks of foot soldiers that dove to get out of the way. The height and speed gave them an advantage over the Coalition soldiers that fought to keep every inch of ground between the battlefield and the walls of Arkadia, but they were losing far too much leeway as they were either cut down or pushed back. Clarke could feel Lexa growing more and more anxious beside her with every Coalition warrior that fell, her anger practically radiating off of her in waves of heat.

Despite losing ground, Bellamy and Kane’s sniper units were doing their jobs, now aiming for the Ice Nation warriors on horseback that towered above the rest of the army. The rover zipped through the crowds and circled in behind the cavalry, mowing down the enemy riders in a hailstorm of bullets before speeding off to funnel the seemingly endless Ice Nation army once more. Despite being grossly outnumbered, the technology and guns that _Skaikru_ possessed appeared to be working hard towards evening the odds. Still, Clarke knew that they would run out of bullets long before _Azgeda_ ran out of warriors and the thought made her insides twist in sharp pangs of fear.

That same fear was reflecting clearly in the green of Lexa’s eyes when Clarke looked over at her; her face was impassive and emotionless as she surveyed the raging battle before them, but her eyes told a completely different story. They were wild and clouded with flickering, tumultuous emotions, the way a storm ravages the sea, skimming across the battlefield and flashing with the bright bursts of gunfire in the night around them. It was clear that she was scared; not for herself, but for her people, her shoulders tensing as a shudder gripped her at the agonizing screams of pain and death that wrecked the bitter winter air in every direction. She was also in pain, growing more and more antagonizing with each death, both her own and Ice Nation, as they were all her people, and she had a duty to protect them. Her jaw was clenched beneath storming eyes as the struggle between heart and head ripped through her, her shoulders rigid and her hand gripping the hilt of her sword tight enough to bend the metal.

A delayed charge went off somewhere towards the back of the Ice Nation forces, apparently not having gone of with the rest, and the blast sent a dozen or so warriors into the air, consumed in a blaze of hungry fire. Lexa winced at the sight, sputtering out a shaky breath as she closed her eyes in an effort to steady herself and rein control of the hurricane of emotions flooding through her. Clarke reached out, attempting to console her despite her own pain and fears that gripped her heart, but found herself speechless at the feeling of Lexa’s entire body trembling beneath her hand. The Commander whirled around, putting her back to the abhorrent violence and steeling her nerves as her jaw locked in place and her posture shifted from vulnerable to stiff and commanding once more.

“There has been enough death and needles bloodshed for one day,” she growled. “I will not let Nia’s greed burden my people any longer. Let us end this, Clarke,” she said, striding towards the ladder and starting her descent as Clarke blinked the surprise from her eyes at the sudden change and moved to follow her.

Raven snagged her wrist before she could get to far, yanking her back and pulling her in to a tight embrace. “Be careful, Griffin,” she whispered against her ear, her breath hot and trembling. “You and Commander Neck Hicky better make it back in one piece,” she threatened.

Clarke rolled her eyes, Raven’s ability to make light of any situation never ceasing to amaze her. “Just be safe, Reyes,” Clarke replied. “Make sure you watch Bellamy’s back. Keep him in line. And please, don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“Please,” Raven scoffed as she pulled out of the embrace. “All I have to do is threaten no sex for a month and he’s practically falling to the ground at my feet.” She smiled coyly and shot Clarke a quick wink before returning to her position at the railing, looking through the scope of her gun in search of targets in the distance.

Clarke scooted to the edge of the guard tower and lowered herself swiftly down the rungs of the ladder, hopping off when her foot hit solid ground. When she turned around, she found Lexa, Lincoln, Luna and Octavia staring at her expectantly. Luna’s shoulders tensed at the sound of a dying scream echoing from the other side of the wall, her wild brown hair pulled back into braids behind her head as she shifted her stance from foot to foot. Octavia and Lincoln already had their weapons drawn, spinning them in their hands in skilled flourishes as if itching to use them, but too antsy to sit still, their eyes framed in smudged black war paint that nearly rivaled Lexa’s. The Commander stood stoically, her hands folded behind her back and looking well at ease compared to the tense ball of nerves she had been only a minute before. Clarke gasped her silent admiration, fighting back the urge to pull Lexa to her lips, constantly baffled and in awe of her ability to shift form from vulnerable to the vision of strength and wisdom in a matter of seconds. Lexa arched a perfect eyebrow at Clarke in silent question, communicating with her eyes rather than her words in a way that only Clarke would understand.

“Let’s go,” Clarke nodded.

Lexa set off instantly, making a direct beeline for the hidden tunnels at the back of the wall that emptied out into the trees around Arkadia. Clarke followed closely behind her, watching the way her red cape dragged and cut through the white snow like a trail of blood before falling into stride beside her. She did her best to tune out the sounds of rapid gunfire, the roaring armies and the screams of pain and fear that were reverberating in a boisterous cacophony off the high trees around them, but failed miserably. The Commander seemed unwaveringly honed in on her goal now, keeping her eyes forward and her head down as she trudged through the snow at their feet, moving quickly and with purpose, eager to end the chaos. Behind them, Luna, Octavia and Lincoln stuck closely to their heels, walking in bitter silence as they prepared themselves mentally for the challenge ahead. 

They had to find Nia, not only that, they had to track her down, fight through her personal guard, and capture or kill her. Clarke wasn’t delusional; she knew that there was a good chance that some, or all of them, would not return from this mission, and the knowledge nearly had her legs buckling in fear. The only thing that kept her grounded was the slight feeling of the Commander’s fingertips just barely ghosting against her own, a whisper of a touch far too often for it to be accidental. She used their proximity to draw strength, just as she knew Lexa was doing as well, and despite the prospect of staring death in the face, she was at ease and resigned to whatever fate had in store fore them.

However, the feeling of calmness quickly faded away as they approached the tunnels towards the back of Arkadia. Dozens upon dozens of wounded already poured through the hidden passageways, bloodied and broken and crying out in pain, the snow at the entrance already stained a bright bloody red. Some of the injured leaned on others for support, while others were being carried in, unconscious and limp on the shoulders of their comrades and she wasn’t able to tell if they were actually breathing or not. Clarke’s eyes scanned the crowd in search of familiar faces, scouring for signs of anyone that she knew, but finding only unfamiliar features and downcast eyes on faces drenched in dirt and blood. Her medical training kicked in, and she instantly began to silently triage the wounded, placing them in critical, fair, and good condition as she sorted through their injuries in her mind. Silently, she debated staying behind to help tend to the masses of wounded people, but the thought of being anywhere but by Lexa’s side was absolutely out of the question. She would just have to trust that her mother and Jackson as well as the Grounder healers they had trained would be able to handle the torrents of injured pouring in.

“Clarke!” an urgent voice called from behind them, halting their determined progress.

She turned in time to see Bellamy pushing his way through the crowd, a panicked look on his face as he struggled to reach them. “Clarke!” he called again, shoving through the last row of people to stand before her, sucking in deep breaths as if he had sprinted from the wall to find them. His brown hair was drenched in sweat and matted to his face, eyes pleading even though he tried to calm his anxious features. He wore the black silicon armor that was typically sported by the members _Skaikru_ law enforcement, making his shoulders look strong and prominent in the tight black shirt that clung to his arms.

“Bellamy?” she asked.

“You’ll need this,” he said, pushing what appeared to be an oddly shaped gun into her hands.

The grip was made of plastic and the barrel was tubular and round, the entire device sporting a bright orange color. “A flare gun?” she questioned.

“When you find Nia, or if you get into trouble, pop one of those off and we’ll send a rover out to meet you. If you’re going to be behind enemy lines, I want to be able to get you out quickly,” he explained, eyes darting from Clarke to Lexa and then quickly falling on his sister.

“You’re not coming with us?” she asked, alarmed. He had made such a big deal over being by his sister’s side when the fighting started, the prospect of him staying behind had not even crossed Clarke’s mind.

He shook his head, face twisted in misery, looking as if the decision was tearing his insides right from his body. “Kane needs me on the wall with him. I knew the Ice Nation army was big but this… I never expected something like this,” he admitted, his tone crestfallen. “If I leave Kane to handle the wall on his own, Arkadia will fall.”

She wanted to argue with him; to tell him to keep his stupid flare gun and just come with them, but she knew he would never be allowing Octavia to trudge off into battle while he stayed behind if he could control it: if he had any other option. She also wanted to tell him that if they found themselves in trouble and had to use the flares, there likely wouldn’t be much left of them by the time the rover got there, but the way he was looking at his sister as if he was about to lose the one thing that lighted his entire world had her mouth glued shut. Instead, she took the flare gun and tucked it tightly into her boot and then pulled him in for a tight hug. “Do your duty to our people,” she whispered in his ear, unsure of what else to say.

“Be careful, Clarke,” he practically growled out. “Keep my sister safe.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s the one that will be keeping me safe, Bell,” she replied as she removed herself from his grasp.

He offered her a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before breathing out a shaky breath and turning to his sister. “O…” he tried, his voice trailing off, his face completely drenched by the expression of sheer terror that he was trying desperately to hide, but failing miserably.

Octavia closed the space between them and threw her arms around her brother. “I’ll be fine, Big Brother,” she promised him, her voice so strong and reassuring that it made it sound as if she was positive. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on what you have to do.”

“That’s never gonna happen, O,” he replied, squeezing her impossibly tighter. “My sister, my responsibility.”

Octavia released her hold on him and pulled away slightly, her green eyes fierce and charged with energy, but her tone was soft when she spoke. “Bell, I’m my own responsibility now,” she said. 

Clarke had heard Bellamy say the words dozens of times before, _‘My sister, my responsibility,’_ and she had always believed them to be true up until that exact moment. Octavia, though a few years younger, was no longer the child that came down on the drop ship. She was a warrior, she was a woman, and she was strong enough to take care of herself. Clarke couldn’t help but feel pride in that moment despite the chaos that surrounded them, and she knew that amidst all the danger and uncertainty, she wouldn’t want Octavia to be anywhere else.

“Octavia,” Lexa said, interrupting the family exchange. “I’m sorry, but we must go. The more time we waste here, the more of our people die out there.”

Octavia nodded her understanding, pulling Bellamy in for one last hug. “I love you, Big Bro,” she said, before turning away to follow the rest of their group.

“I love you too!” Bellamy called from behind them, rooted in place and staring as his sister walked away from the safety of his arms and towards the uncertain perils of war.

It was like swimming against stream as they made their way out of Arkadia while dozens filed in, frantically shoving and screaming for help in _Trigedasleng_. But the sight of the Commander seemed to help calm some of the chaos, and as she walked, they parted for her, allowing them to cut through the crowds unhindered. They ducked into the concealed entrance of a nearby tunnel that led beneath the wall, the damp and musty air inside smelling of blood and death and wet earth. When they emerged on the other side, they were in the midst of towering oak trees, the battle raging on just twenty yards away from them as the gunners and arrows fired down from above them to keep Ice Nation from following the wounded back to the tunnel entrance. Clarke wasn’t surprised to find the familiar group of Lexa’s personal guard dressed for battle with weapons drawn, waiting to escort them on their mission and willing to defend their Commander with their lives.

On the ground, the battle was far different than what Clarke had seen from the safety of the guard towers behind the high walls. Violence and gore reigned in every direction that her eyes wandered, watching as clan fought against clan, warrior against warrior, swords clanging and spears clashing on all sides. Bullets cut through a line of Ice Nation soldiers as a rover sped by, spraying up bloodied snow and dirt beneath its spinning tires as splatters of blood exploded off the legs and chests of men and women that sunk to the ground, adding to the foundation of bodies built at their feet. The snow was stained crimson beneath their boots, even as they wove through the trees, well away from where the bulk of the battle raged. Cries of pain, pleading for help or a merciful death, echoed off the trees around them, sounded so loudly in Clarke’s ears that she knew it would be a sound that haunted her for the rest of her life.

What was worse than the sound was the smell. It reeked of charred flesh, gunpowder and kerosene, reminding her too much of the scent of burnt bodies after she pulled the lever that incinerated three hundred of Lexa’s warriors at the drop ship. It was pungent and foul in the air, stagnate in the haze of smoke and fire and falling snow, burning her nostrils and pulling tears to her eyes as she choked on the odor of it. Blinking the tears from her vision, her gaze fell to the dozens of severed limbs and body parts that littered the ground, blown apart by the initial blast of Raven’s trap and scattered about like children’s toys, tossed away and long forgotten.

Clarke heard the sound of gagging from behind her, breaking her tormented gaze as she glanced over her shoulder to see Octavia doubled over and losing the contents of her stomach. Lincoln, despite being a seasoned warrior and accustomed to battle, was green himself, his olive skin clammy across his brow with dripping sweat as he attempted to pull Octavia upright so that they could keep moving. Luna, the pacifist, resoundingly out of place amongst the death and uncontrolled violence, had eyes wide as if being awoken to the horrors of war for the first time in her life. The Commander, leading the front of the group with her sword drawn and eyes scanning diligently for danger around them, was the only one that appeared unfazed by the gruesome scenes shifting by around them. Instead, she seemed focused, honed in to her surroundings and aware of every trace of movement as they snuck around the flanks of the Ice Nation army. 

They hovered just out of view, hidden behind the first few rows of trees and underbrush beneath the safety of the gunners and archers that diligently picked off any enemy warrior that wandered too close. Clarke glanced up into the treetops and could see the eyes of her people, her warriors, on them, watching them carefully like personal guardians as they wove between the tree trunks. Her hand shifted to her own gun at her waist, unclipping the strap that held it in place in her holster and tugging it free as she kept it pointed at the ground in front of her, ready to use the instant she needed to protect herself or her friends. Even in the biting cold of the crisp winter air, her blood boiled hot and sweat poured down her cheeks as the battle raged on around them.

Shots rang out from above them, far too close for comfort, and Clarke spun towards the chaotic battle that thundered beside them to see a band of Ice Nation warriors converging around a small platoon of Coalition soldiers that had been cut off from the rest. In the middle of the Coalition pack, Clarke could make out distinct silver armor, familiar short black hair, and beautiful dark toned skin, drenched in blood and swinging swords with fierce and deadly accuracy. Her resolve never faltered, even as the soldiers nearest her fell to enemy spears, and she looked as if she could take on the entire Ice Nation army by herself, spinning and blocking and cutting down enemy warriors without a moment’s hesitation.

“Indra!” Octavia shouted, instantly moving in the direction of her mentor who was nearly surrounded, yet still fighting with an intensity that burned hot enough to melt the bloodied snow at their feet.

“Octavia, wait!” Lincoln snarled, reaching out to pull her back but failing as Octavia yanked her arm free and dashed out of the cover of the trees. Lincoln growled, clenching his teeth and swinging his sword at his side as he chased after her into the violent fray of battle.

Clarke looked at Lexa, communicating her panic with her eyes as Lincoln and Octavia charged together towards the first group of _Azgeda soldiers_ , meeting them in a loud clash of steel against steel. The Commander hesitated a moment, caught between wanting to help and sticking to the shadows so that they could carry out their mission; Nia was the goal, the battle was a distraction. She grunted as her shoulders fell, whirling around on her guards with fire blazing in her emerald eyes as she twirled her sword and trudged through the underbrush towards the others. Her posture was undeniably intimidating, like a predator ready to launch itself at its prey as she moved with lethal speed.

“On me!” she shouted, and her guards along with Luna instantly reacted, following her into the chaos.

They charged towards the nearest Ice Nation warriors that moved to surround Indra, taking them by surprise as they sprung from their hidden position in the trees. By the time the first wave of enemies realized they were under attack, it was too late, Lexa and her guards reaching them and ending their lives in a matter of seconds with quick, precise thrusts of their swords. Lincoln and Octavia fought side by side, digging their heels into the deep snow as they deflected blows and pushed forward frantically trying to reach Indra behind a line of enemies. Luna stood at Lexa’s back as she had a few days prior, guarding her blindside and spinning out of the way as she incapacitated enemies before moving aside for Lexa to aim a lethal kill strike, working together with deadly accuracy.

Indra’s brown eyes went wide at the sight of Lexa and her guard coming to her aid, and despite the death and violence raging around her, Clarke registered surprise and then fury in her gaze. It seemed to rejuvenate her tiring muscles, giving her another burst of energy as she cut down a warrior in front of her, raking the dangerous edge of her sword across his throat and opening it up for his blood to spill out down his chest. She kicked his body out of the way, shoving the full weight of the man into the person behind him and sending them both tumbling to the ground while she moved in to drive her blade through the chest of the second. Her bare skin and armor were coated in a thick sheen of crimson blood that glowed silver in the moonlight, and Clarke had a feeling that not a single drop of it was her own.

Octavia and Lincoln took on two enemies of their own, the former jumping out of the way of a spear as it thrust through the space where she had been rooted only milliseconds before. She brought her sword down on the shaft of the weapon, shoving it forcefully into the snow while she lifted a boot and brought her foot down hard enough to snap the spear in half. She spun and threw a back handed fist into the nose of her attacker before spinning again in the opposite direction, kneeling and using the edge of her sword to slice through the sinewy muscles in the back of the man’s legs. She didn’t hesitate, popping up to take on her next opponent, leaving her injured enemy to his fate as he howled in pain.

Lincoln raised his sword, blocking a downward strike from his enemy with his right hand while using the weight of his forward momentum to throw a heavy left-handed fist, crashing into his attacker’s nose with a crunch that Clarke could hear all the way from the tree line. His enemy staggered back, only slightly fazed, recovering quickly and charging forward once more, throwing attack after attack that had Lincoln retreating on his heels. Lincoln’s defense was solid, deflecting the blows that glanced harmlessly away, making it look almost effortless. His enemy grew frustrated, swinging his sword with two hands in an attempt to overpower him that seemed futile as Lincoln just simply stepped out of the way, using his speed rather than strength to dodge the sloppy blows. 

It appeared that he had the advantage as his attacker grew tired, but the tables quickly turned as another enemy came out of nowhere, thrusting a spear toward Lincoln’s throat and causing him to shift his defense to block the strike just as the first opponent brought his sword down in a wide arc, piercing all the way through the meaty part of Lincoln’s thigh. He screamed in pain as the sword sunk through the top of his thigh and protruded out the bottom, coated in crimson blood as he struggled to stay on his feet. He didn’t have a moment to recover as the second attacker was aiming to kill, coming after him again with another swipe of his spear that Lincoln just managed to block. He took a step back on his injured leg and howled, sinking to the ground in agonizing pain and falling to his knees, yet still using his sword to deflect the incoming blows.

“Lincoln!” Octavia was screaming his name, swinging her sword madly in an attempt to disable her current attacker so that she could get to Lincoln, but the man’s defenses were too precise, easily turning her frantic attacks away.

Clarke watched in horror, frozen in place with trepidation as Lincoln held up his sword to try to fend off a heavy strike from his first opponent, the attack so strong that it ripped his sword from his hands and sent it clattering to the ground. Both enemies closed in, eyes wide with blood lust as they circled their defenseless opponent, positioned on his knees in the snow and completely unarmed. The first Ice Nation warrior lifted his sword while the second brought his spear back, preparing to end Lincoln’s life right before the eyes of the woman he loved. His expression fell from fear to one of resignation as he held his arms at his sides and prepared to meet his fate, utterly defeated. Clarke didn’t want to watch, she wanted to turn away, to close her eyes and wish away the scene in front of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

She felt the scream boiling in her chest when Lexa and Luna came out of nowhere, the Commander holding her sword out to block the strike just as the warrior brought his own weapon down over Lincoln’s head, their swords meeting in a loud clash. Luna used her spear to swipe the second warrior’s legs out from beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap beside Lincoln, landing flat on his back. Lexa spun around Luna’s back as Luna spun in the opposite direction, quickly changing opponents. Luna deflected a blow from the man with the sword while Lexa thrust her own sword down into the chest of the man with the spear who had been sprawled out on the ground, aptly and quickly ending his life. They both turned inwards and closed in on the remaining Ice Nation warrior like lions closing in on their pray, simultaneously attacking him in a flurry of swords and spears. He stood no chance, losing his footing after a carefully timed blast of Luna’s spear upwards into his already broken nose, stumbling backwards as Lexa thrust her blade through his abdomen.

Octavia and Indra broke through at the same time, rushing away from their attackers to come to Lincoln’s aid. Lexa’s guard held off the remains of the _Azgeda_ war party as Clarke finally willed her feet to move, rushing from her concealed spot among the trees and skidding to a halt beside Lincoln. She knelt beside him, already tearing a strip of cloth away from the bottom of her shirt to bind the hole in his leg that was steadily pouring blood out onto the snow. Octavia dropped to her knees on his other side, pulling his head to her chest and clinging to him tightly as she breathed a visible sigh of relief, blinking moisture from her eyes. Clarke’s fingers pulled the fabric around Lincoln’s wound away, examining it to see if an artery had been hit, but it appeared to be a clean wound, going all the way through the muscle of his thigh and coming out the back of his leg. He was lucky.

Clarke wrapped the strip of fabric she’d torn around the leaking wound, pulling it tightly to staunch the bleeding and creating a tourniquet in the process. “It’s a clean wound, O,” she sputtered out, feeling her own relief flood her voice.

Indra turned to the Commander, breathing heavily from the effort of the fight. “Heda, what are you doing here?” She asked, practically shouting as she whirled around on Lexa with rage in her eyes. “You must find Nia and end this!”

“I am aware!” Lexa growled, reaching down and urgently, but gently, pulling Clarke to her feet, her hand tightly gripping the space beneath her elbow. “We need to stay out of view,” she said, motioning in the direction of the trees. “I do not want you out on this battlefield.”

Indra and Octavia knelt and draped Lincoln’s arms around their shoulders so that they could haul him to his feet, allowing him to keep the pressure off his wounded leg. “He can’t fight like this,” Octavia said, the fierce protectiveness in her voice daring to be challenged.

Lexa nodded her agreement, not even considering otherwise. “Get him back behind the walls,” she commanded, looking towards two of her guards. They instantly complied, taking his full weight from Indra and Octavia and dragging him back in the direction of Arkadia before he stopped them.

“Octavia?” he asked. His question was clear; would she go with him, or would she stay and do her duty to Lexa and her people?

“Go,” she replied without a moment of hesitation. “I’ll be fine.” She closed the distance between them in one step, pressing her lips to his, the act of love and affection entirely out of place amongst the battle that raged around them. “I love you,” she whispered with strength rather than fear.

Lincoln nodded, not bothering to question her decision or try to convince her otherwise, entirely confident and faithful in her abilities. It was apparent that he trusted her, and not only that, he knew that she was strong enough to take care of herself. “I love you too,” he said, turning away as Lexa’s guards helped him back towards the hidden tunnels.

“Heda, I must return to the front lines,” Indra said insistently, shattering the moment. “Our lines are holding against the _Azgeda_ advance, but Pike cannot lead our people on his own.”

“Go,” Lexa commanded, turning to the rest of her guards. “Go with her!” she shouted, resiliency filling her voice. “ _Ste yuj! Oso throu daun ogeda!_ ”

Indra reached out, clasping the Commander’s wrist in her own and offering a slight head bow in respect. “May we meet again,” she said.

“May we meet again, Indra,” Lexa returned, giving her own nod before releasing her trusted friend’s hand and turning away. “We must hurry,” she said, addressing Clarke, Luna and Octavia.

The four of them darted back towards the tree line, disappearing into the forest and leaving the shouts of battle behind them as they melted into the deep night shadows. They wove through the tree trunks swiftly and with ease, out of sight and beneath the watchful eye of the gunners and archers in the trees, protecting them from high above. The fighting echoed off the forest, shouts and cries of pain thrumming in Clarke’s ears so loudly that she thought she might go insane from the sheer terror and noise of it all. From what she could see, the Coalition forces were holding their own despite the overwhelming numbers of Ice Nation, but the bullet shots were few and far between and she could tell that her people were running out of ammo. From her spot in the trees, she could also tell that they were nearing the rear of what remained of the _Azgeda_ army, skirting around the edges of their forces just out of view.

Up ahead she could just make out the sound of hooves beating against the solid earth; it was hard to hear, lost beneath the racket of a rover as it sped by them, letting out quick bursts of gunshots, but it was there nonetheless. “Lexa,” she hissed, but the Commander’s sharp ears were already honed in on the noise, giving Clarke a confirming nod before heading silently in the direction of the hooves.

The deeper they sunk into the forest, concealed between thick tree trunks and heavy underbrush, the more distant the sounds of battle grew until they were nothing more than the occasional shout or the random blast of a far away horn. Clarke glanced up into the tree tops above, straining her eyes into the darkness in an attempt to see if their personal archer unit had followed them this far into the woods, and feeling a heavy weight of despair when she realized that they were alone. It was just the four of them now, searching for a loose thread in Nia's careful planning to pull and unravel the entirety of her rebellion. Clarke shifted instinctively closer to Lexa, feeling the need to draw comfort from her proximity, overwhelmed with the knowledge that they were helplessly on their own at this point.

The sound of hooves they'd been tracking drew nearer, and as Clarke listened in she could tell that it was not one, but multiple horses that where whinnying and beating their feet. She caught the sound of voices too, straining hard to hear the conversation in _Trigedasleng_ that she could only pick out bits and pieces of, but she knew that Lexa and the others were listening as well. They slowed their pace as they got closer to the source of the noise, ducking low into the underbrush as they approached, concealing themselves within the thick bushes along the edge of the clearing ahead. As they moved in to get a closer look, a voice that Clarke easily recognized wafted in their direction, the unmistakable lilt of it sending cold chills all the way down to the base of her spine.

Ahead of them, Ontari stood amidst a gathering of ten or so warriors, four of which were on foot and the rest on horseback, keeping control of their antsy animals that banged their hooves and snorted with angst. The Ice Nation Nightblood was clad in grey furs, black leather straps winding across her chest and back to hold an array of weapons and padded armor in place. Her hair was pulled back off her face, braided tightly to her scalp, and revealing the scars of _Azgeda_ that branded her face like property. Her brown eyes burned as she issued orders to the men and women listening to her intently, and Clarke couldn't help but feel that in another life this woman might have been beautiful. Now, covered in scars and white war paint and snarling commands at her unit, she looked nothing more than fierce and incredibly deadly with two lethal swords sheathed across her back and various knives held in place on her hip.

Beside Clarke, Lexa let out a low growl as she eyed Ontari, almost animalistic in nature like a lion preparing to defend her territory. Clarke reached over and slid a calming hand around Lexa's arm, feeling her tense beneath her touch and the way her muscles contracted as if getting ready to strike. Her emerald eyes narrowed in on her target as her jaw clenched and in the pale moonlight, her war mask looked as sharp as fangs streaking down her cheeks. Her entire body was trembling beneath Clarke's reassuring grasp, as if she was struggling to contain her rage behind a wall of control that was crumbling away piece by piece with each passing second.

"Easy, baby," Clarke whispered in an attempt to help the Commander ground herself.

"Clarke, who is that?" Octavia hissed from over her shoulder, clearly noticing the change in Lexa's demeanor at the sight of the other woman.

"The Ice Nation Nightblood that murdered Lexa's novitiates and almost killed Aden," Clarke replied, her voice so low that only they could hear but the words tasting sour in her mouth nonetheless. "What are they saying?" she asked, straining to decipher the enemy conversation in _Trigedasleng_.

Luna shifted closer, placing a hand on Clarke's shoulder to steady her balance as they huddled together in the cover of the bushes. Her voice was strained, nearly angry when she finally translated. "They know that Lexa is wise enough to track the messengers back to Nia," she whispered. "Those that you see on foot and on horse are all carriers, but only one of them has message for the Ice Queen. The rest are decoys meant to lead us in the wrong direction," she explained.

Clarke felt a rush of panic sweep through her, colder than the snow that was soaking through her pants where her knees touched the ground, but it was Octavia who voiced the question swirling in her own mind. "So, then how do we know who is the one that will lead us to Nia?" she asked.

"We don't," Lexa growled, seething with hatred and malice as she glared at Ontari with enough heat to engulf the whole world in flames if ignited by a single wayward spark.

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the cold truth sink in as they listened for something, anything that could provide them with a clue as to which messenger would show them the way to where the Ice Queen and the rest of the clan leaders who supported her were hiding out. Clarke wracked her brain for a plan, using logic to try and come up with a solution, and only landing on one answer that would surely either get her killed or drive Lexa to near insanity. It would also surely work. She sucked in a deep breath, steeling her nerves before she could talk herself out of it, and reached down to unclasp the holster that held her gun to her waist.

"Octavia, take this," she said, thrusting the gun into the other girl's arms, knowing that she was the only other one that would dare touch the _Skaikru_ weapon. “And this,” she added, tossing her the flare gun. Without hesitating, she shifted closer to Lexa and pulled the knife that she kept hidden in her boot from its sheath.

"Clarke?" Lexa questioned, her tone alarmed as her hand snapped out to stop her. "What are you doing?"

Clarke glanced up, meeting Lexa's worried gaze as emerald forest green struggled to capture the wistful blue sky, already piecing together her plan. "Clarke, n—

But Lexa's protests were cut off, swallowed by the searing kiss that Clarke crushed against her lips, so intense and so desperate that it could have been the last kiss they would ever share. When their lips parted, the sheer suddenness of the moment left Lexa stunned, blinking away the tears that gathered in her eyes as if she had known without words that this was a goodbye. Clarke took the moment of hesitation, to proceed with her plan, bringing the knife up and raking it across her palm, opening a wide gash in the meaty flesh that instantly began to pour out blood onto the white snow. The sight of the thick crimson liquid dripping from Clarke's palm seemed to stir Lexa from her daze, and her hand shot out again to rip the knife from Clarke's grasp, but Clarke let it go freely having no further need for it.

"Clarke!" Lexa hissed, frantic now, eyes wide. "Don't, Clarke!"

But Clarke was already pulling away, bringing her bloody palm up to wipe smears of blood across her face and through her hair before pressing it tightly against the brown fabric of her jacket right below her ribs on her left side. The deep gash seeped blood, turning the brown leather a deep shade of black and making it appear as if she had suffered some sort of puncture wound, her hand merely pressing over top of it as to staunch the bleeding. She let her eyes meet the Commander's once more, seeing the desperate pleading in them that nearly broke her heart, feeling the way it shattered as it pounded in her chest.

"Hide," was all she managed to choke out as she rose quickly from the bushes.

Lexa reacted instantly, moving to stop her but failing as Luna and Octavia held her back, yanking her down and having to cover her mouth to keep her from shouting as she struggled furiously against their restraints. Clarke didn't look back, didn't glance over her shoulder to see if they had pulled Lexa away to find a better hiding spot, but instead made a show of stumbling into the clearing, falling to her knees as if gravely injured. Upon seeing her, the warrior nearest her reacted instantly, lifting his sword to end her life without a moment of hesitation. She looked up, and her eyes found Ontari, settling on the Nightblood with ice in her gaze as she stilled her frazzled and frantic nerves.

Recognition flashed across Ontari's intimidating features and she reacted instantly. "Wait!" she snarled, stopping the warrior before he could deliver a death blow to Clarke's head. "Don't you know who that is?" she snapped, striding forward confidently and closing the distance between them as her eyes scanned over Clarke's hunched form in the snow. " _Wanheda_ , Commander of Death," she mused.

"Ontari," Clarke rasped, putting in effort to make her voice sound strained as if struggling for the energy to speak.

Ontari knelt and surveyed the blood seeping through Clarke's jacket at her side, smirking as if pleased at the sight of it. "I'm curious, Clarke," the girl continued on, her tone lighthearted like they were not currently in the middle of a war. "What is _Heda kom Skaikru_ doing way out here in the middle of the woods, wounded, while our scouts report that the Commander is in the fray of battle with that _Floukru_ coward by her side? Surely _Leksa_ would not ever let her lover stray from her sight..."

Clarke paused, faking a wince for a moment to allow her some time to absorb the information. So, the Ice Nation scouts had seen Lexa and Luna rush into battle to save Indra, but had not seen their movements after that. Or if they had, they had not yet reported an update, perhaps shot down by the archers in the trees on their way to relay the message to Ontari. "Lexa doesn't know I'm out here," Clarke answered, using her fake injury to give her time to come up with an excuse. "I was searching for Nia, but I guess you will have to do," she added, not needing to feign her displeasure.

The tone of her voice seemed to peak Ontari's curiosity as her eyes flashed with rage for a moment before going steely once more. "And why are you searching for my Queen?" she asked.

"To offer a trade," Clarke answered, again using a wince to hide her lie. "My life for the lives of my people," she said.

Ontari threw her head back and laughed at that, an ear-splitting cackle that made Clarke grimace in a way that could not be faked, sounding unnatural coming from the woman's mouth. "Call off our attack? Why would Nia ever agree to that?" Ontari questioned, humor alight in her features.

"Because," Clarke answered, making a show of struggling to get to her feet. Her performance was truly award worthy. "Nia's quarrel is with Lexa, not my people. She has already broken the Coalition and forced a war and I am Lexa's love," she explained. "If she wants to hurt the Commander, she need only to hurt me." Her words came easily, the first truth she'd told since stumbling into the clearing.

"And you'd so selflessly sacrifice yourself to spare the lives of your people?" Ontari asked in disbelief.

"My duty is to my people," Clarke replied, hardening her tone. She knew that Lexa was watching from somewhere in the shadows, and she did her best to channel strength from the Commander's invisible gaze. "Nia can use me as a tool against Lexa," she said. "That makes me valuable. Valuable enough to spare _Skaikru_ and stop this needless bloodshed."

Ontari considered her words for a moment, pondering the possibilities before a slow grin crept across her face. "What's stopping me from taking you prisoner right now and dragging you off to be used as a pawn while we continue to massacre your people?" she asked. “What’s stopping me from killing you?”

Clarke shifted back into character, acting like the injured and desperate girl just trying to save the lives of her friends and family. "Nothing," Clarke answered. "We will just have to see if your queen has any honor."

Again, Ontari laughed in her face as if already aware of the answer to that question, but she indulged Clarke anyways. "Very well, Clarke of the Sky People," she said after a moment, staring at Clarke the way a cat plays with its food. "I'll be sure to convince Nia to let me be the one to deliver your head to Lexa this time," she smiled.

Her words struck a nerve, and Clarke couldn't help herself when she growled out, "Go fuck yourself." She was about to add an insult but a gag was being shoved into her mouth before she could utter the words, her hands being pulled behind her back and bound together with rope. She was sure to keep her wounded palm pressed tightly in her other hand as to conceal the injury from view, but her captors were far too excited to even take notice.

Her eyes landed on Ontari's gaze once more, and her unnatural grin beneath deep scars that framed her face was the last thing Clarke saw before a bag was pulled over her head, veiling the world in darkness. "Fan out and search the area!" she heard Ontari command. "Make sure we're not being followed!"

She listened for a moment, straining to hear any signs of nearby struggle or battle, praying that Lexa, Luna and Octavia had concealed themselves well enough, otherwise her plan would be of no use and it would have all been for nothing. A moment later she heard a warrior shuffle into the clearing, signaling that it was all clear and that Clarke had indeed come alone. Or so they thought. Another second passed and she was being yanked forward by her elbow, pulled roughly in an unknown direction, willing her feet to move despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to turn and flee. She was in the hands of the enemy now, bound, gagged, and completely defenseless with nothing left to protect herself except for the hope and faith that Lexa would keep her safe.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clarke trudged through the snow that was growing increasingly deeper around her ankles, lost to the direction in which they were going. She had tried counting her steps, doing all that she could to get a feel for her location, but had quickly given up after the number climbed well into the thousands. Wherever Nia was hiding away, safe from the perils of battle and horrors of the war she wrought, was far from the front lines. Her vision was obscured by the dark hood over her face, just barely able to keep track of her feet through a gap in the bottom, but it did nothing to obscure her hearing. She listened as her captors spoke in _Trigedasleng_ , only catching bits and pieces of their conversation, but she listened more intently for any sound or signal that would tell her that Lexa and the others were following closely behind. She was putting her fate in literal blind faith, and the feeling left her legs quaking beneath the weight of her body, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Every so often, their pace would slow, and she would have to wait while one of the warriors reached down to help her over and unseen log or fallen tree. Without the power of sight, her mind wandered, imagining every possible scenario that could play out in the moments to come. Her mind flashed to images of violence, seeing herself die in ten different ways before she finally forced the thoughts from her head, and instead thought surprisingly of Anya. Anya, Lexa’s former mentor and the deceased general of _Trikru_ who had since been replaced by Indra. Anya, the warrior who once beat Clarke to a pulp, saved her life, and slapped her in the face with a dripping pile of mud before agreeing to make peace between their people.

 _‘You started a war that you don’t know how to end,’_ Clarke thought of the woman’s first words to her, chuckling to herself at the irony. The truth was, they had been at war since the moment they landed on the ground, with each other, with the Grounders, with Mount Weather, and now with Ice Nation, and Clarke didn’t know how to end any of those wars. She acted with her gut, trusted her instincts, believed in her decisions as a leader that could help get her people through, and trusted in alliances she had forged with many different people along the way. She wondered what Anya would say to her now, bound and gagged and being dragged towards an inevitable death at the hands of the woman who had already murdered Lexa’s former love. She would probably laugh and slap her in the face with another pile of mud before telling her to suck it up and figure it out.

For some reason, the thought gave Clarke comfort, renewing the strength in her legs and in her resolve as they trudged on through the forest. She had come this far, had survived this long, had met the woman she undoubtedly loved with all of her heart and would give her very life for, she was not going to give up now. This had been her plan to begin with, her idea to use herself as bait in order to flush Nia out of hiding, and it is her bravery, or perhaps sheer foolishness and dumb luck, that would put an end to this war. She and Lexa together would stop the fighting and bring peace to their people, or they would die trying, that much was sure.

They came to a sudden stop, jolting Clarke from her wandering thoughts as she was pushed down to her knees in the snow. “Get that hood off!” she heard Ontari bark at one of the warriors, and instantly her blindfold was lifted away.

The blinding light in her eyes was a shock as she blinked rapidly to adjust to the hazy morning sunlight reflecting off the snow, not having been aware that the night had long since given way to dawn. The clouds overhead were still dark and storming, spewing fresh snow and obscuring the sun so that it shone down through breaks in the trees in shrouded shades of dismal grey. She was on her knees in a clearing, in front of her was the dark mouth of a cave, vast and deep and foreboding, looking as if it could swallow her whole. Around the entrance, there must have been a dozen guards, standing at attention with weapons drawn even as Ontari shouted at one of them to go get Nia. Clarke couldn’t help herself, she glanced around in all directions, searching for her rescue, scouring for signs of her saviors or hints that she had indeed been followed all the way out there.

She didn’t have to wait long. Before Ontari could even get the full command out, Lexa was dashing into the clearing, bursting out of nearby bushes at the speed of a bullet from a gun. Her emerald eyes were blazing, and she growled her rage as she met the first two guards in combat, spinning her sword about and effortlessly deflecting their attacks before countering and striking them down with unparalleled speed and skill. Luna was right on her heels, twirling her spear over her shoulders and across her back as she hurried to Lexa’s aid, her brown eyes set in determination. A second later, Octavia was skidding to a halt in the snow behind Clarke, yanking the gag from her mouth and using a knife to free her hands. She pressed Clarke’s gun to her palm and tossed the flare gun into the snow at her side before popping up and darting into the battle with dual swords drawn.

Clarke pulled herself to her feet, reacting instantly, doing her best to remain calm and in control of her emotions as Lexa, Luna and Octavia took on a cohort of Nia’s warriors. The first thing she did was load a flare into the gun and shoot off a blast of orange sparks hundreds of feet in the air, rising high above the treetops so that help could find them. Then she clicked the safety off her gun and began firing, shooting at anyone that dared pose a threat to her or the three women she had grown to care about. She shot bullet after bullet, watching as they sunk into their targets, spewing blasts of blood from legs, arms, chests; any appendage that she could aim at.

She saw Lexa turn away from the fight she was currently engaged in, leaving Luna to deal with her attacker while she squared off against Ontari, rage seething beneath her black war paint. The Commander looked unlike Clarke had ever seen her before, not even in her fight against Roan, as she held her shoulders rigid and gripped her sword, white-hot wrath searing in the green of her eyes so prominently that they glowed with it. All of the emotions she had felt at the loss of her novitiates; all of the anger, the pain, the resentment and disappointment she’d been trying to conceal came flooding to the surface. Her jaw was clenched, her posture coiled at the ready as the two women circled each other, eyeing one another as if measuring their opponent. Ontari had drawn both of her swords from the sheaths on her back, and she spun them now in her hands, twirling them in a flourish of deadly skill so quickly that Clarke’s eyes could barely keep up with the flash of the metal.

It was Lexa who lunged first, unable to contain her desire for revenge any longer, bringing her sword down in a flurry of rapid strikes and jabs. She made it look easy, captivating almost, in how effortless the motions came to her, releasing a loud battle cry that undoubtedly sprung from the pain of loss as she faced the woman who took her novitiates from this world. Her crimson red cape was swirling out behind her as she spun and blocked and dodged, moving with grace and ease and making the fight look more like a deadly choreographed dance rather than a duel to the death. Ontari was just as fast though, using her dual weapons to deflect Lexa’s sharp blows, their swords clashing together in a hail of sparks and high pitched clanging. 

Ontari side-stepped on of Lexa’s strikes, using the sword in her right hand to push Lexa’s blade down into the snow while she brought her left elbow up and cracked a stinging jab across the Commander’s cheek that left her war paint smudged. Lexa stammered backwards, but quickly recovered, blocking Ontari’s next advance with ease before ducking beneath her blade as it passed through the space where her head had been a second before. Still crouched, she rolled out of the way of another rapid attack, popping up behind Ontari and planting a heavy boot into the center of her back that had the Ice Nation Nightblood stumbling forward. Ontari growled in frustration and spun back around, advancing on Lexa with renewed hatred in her eyes that could only be quelled by the blood of her worthy opponent. 

Clarke whirled around at the sound of Octavia crying out in pain as an arrow whizzed by her, tearing away the flesh on her bicep as it passed and opening a fresh wound. She spun in the direction the arrow had come from and lifted her gun, firing one bullet before the chamber clicked three times, empty and useless. Her first shot had hit its mark though, and the archer grunted in pain as blood seeped through the hole in his shirt where his arm met his right shoulder. Still, her remained on his feet, reaching for the knife at his belt, but Clarke was faster. She sprinted towards him, throwing the entirety of her weight on his body as she tackled him to the ground in the freezing wet snow. She used the metal grip of her empty gun as a weapon, smashing him across the bridge of the nose and instantly knocking him unconscious.

Behind her, Luna and Octavia had recovered, and were now fighting side by side, fending off the four remaining guards while Lexa stood locked in grueling battle with Ontari, her expression twisted in concentration beneath a furrowed brow. Ontari was on offense, driving Lexa back towards the tree line as she expertly deflected the blows of her dual swords, using a combination of blocks and rapid dodges to avoid the onslaught of attacks. Lexa was breathing heavily, the air coming out of her lungs in steady streams of white in the bitter cold, but her guard remained steady and unwavering, looking as if she could fight all day if she had to. Ontari was just as equally composed, her face twisted in what looked like a sly, almost amused, smile as she battled, enjoying every moment of the danger and chaos. 

Ontari faked a strike, feigning to her left and Lexa moved to block it, leaving herself open for a quick thrust of Ontari’s sword, slicing through the fabric of the Commander’s heavy overcoat just below her rib cage. Lexa batted the jab away a moment too late, stammering backwards and pressing her free hand to her side, finding it drenched in hot black blood when she lifted it away. Clarke felt fear and panic surge through her, practically strangling the cry from her throat as she watched Ontari advance once more, fueled further by the sight of the Commander’s blood. From what Clarke could see, the wound was not deep enough to cause serious damage, but it slowed Lexa down nonetheless, offsetting her attacks and leaving her only to defend.

Clarke looked to Luna and Octavia for help, but found them back to back in the midst of their own combat, spinning and striking and changing opponents the way Clarke had seen Luna and Lexa do time and time again. They never fought the same attacker for more than a few seconds, switching up and twirling out of the way as to keep their enemies guessing. Luna wielded her spear with expert accuracy, lethal and dangerous, crippling anyone that fell victim to her skilled way of combat, while Octavia rallied with the same dual swords that Ontari used. Together, they made up a deadly unit, working together in unison to fend off attacks, incapacitate, and kill. Luna spun to the right, sweeping the legs out from beneath her opponent while Octavia dashed left, coming around in time to drive her sword through the enemy’s chest, ending his life before moving on to the next. 

She had been so caught up in the battle and in her own worry that she didn’t hear the rapid footsteps approaching behind her until it was too late. “Clarke, duck!” she heard Lexa shout and barely had time to comply as she watched the Commander roll away from one of Ontari’s attacks, popping to her feet and hurling the knife she pulled from her boot in Clarke’s direction.

Clarke watched as the knife flipped over in the air, spinning rapidly before landing with a heavy _thud_ in the chest of an Ice Nation warrior that had snuck up behind her. The man’s eyes went wide in surprise, stunned by the sheer force of the blade that was buried to the hilt in his body as he sunk to his knees, choking and gurgling on his own blood before falling face forward into the snow. Clarke’s eyes shot upward in time to see Lexa only slightly recover, turning and blocking Ontari’s attack at the very last second, her balance thrown off by her efforts to protect Clarke. Her blade absorbed the blow, but shot free of her grip and clamored to the ground a few yards away, buried beneath a pile of fresh snow.

Panic and dread and unbridled terror surged through Clarke at seeing Lexa, now defenseless, bobbing and weaving out of the way of Ontari’s relentless strikes, no longer having a weapon to block the incoming attacks. Her scream lodged itself in her throat when Lexa dove out of the way of another well aimed attack, landing right on the wound in her side and leaving a trail of black blood in the snow as she was slow getting to her feet. She looked tired, breathing heavily and undeniably pale from blood loss, though the resolve in her eyes never wavered. She never once looked scared or panic, but instead kept her eyes focused on her enemy, reading her moves and doing all that she could to avoid getting caught off balance or off guard. Clarke could see that she was slowly but surely dancing her way around Ontari’s attacks in the direction of her sword where it sat uselessly in the snow, needing to get her hands on a weapon.

Clarke took a step forward, wracking her brain to come up with something, anything, to help get her love out of the impossible danger she had put herself in, stumbling on something at her feet. She glanced down and saw the bow from the man she had tackled and knocked unconscious, instantly reaching for it before locating an arrow from the quiver that was still strapped to the man’s back. She knocked the arrow, thinking back to her training with Aden and the lessons he had given her in the use of the unfamiliar weapon. At the time, she never believed that she would actually have to use it, but in that moment, she had no choice. She pulled the arrow back, aiming down the shaft of it at her target, keeping her elbow out and pulling the string back to the corner of her mouth as she waited for an opening.

Lexa caught sight of her over Ontari’s shoulder and seemed to register her understanding, albeit her expression immediately shifted from calm to terrified as she undoubtedly remembered how terrible Clarke’s few shots had been. She offered Clarke a single nod before diving out of the way of Ontari’s next attack, rolling beneath her sword in the direction over her own weapon. With Lexa out of the way, Clarke steadied the trembling in her hand, breathing out slightly as she let the bowstring roll off her fingertips as Aden had taught her what seemed like years ago. She watched as the arrow soared towards her mark, slicing through the air in what felt like slow motion. By no means did she hit the target she was aiming for; she had been aiming for Ontari’s heart, knowing that it must have been nearly microscopic, but was still satisfied when her arrow sank shaft deep into the woman’s thigh.

Ontari let out a howl, staggering backwards in pain and offering Lexa enough time to get to her sword, yanking it from the snow bank and whirling around on her screaming opponent. She didn’t hesitate as she closed the distance between them, easily batting away Ontari’s weak attempt to drive her back as she brought her knee up into the Ice Nation warrior’s stomach. Ontari doubled over, gasping for air and clutching at the arrow lodged in her leg as she stumbled, trying to keep her feet. Lexa was relentless, fire reignited in her eyes as she advanced on Ontari with a heavy overhead strike, forcing the girl to lift both swords just to block the attack from getting through her defenses. With both hands locked up in deflecting Lexa’s loaded blow, it left her chest open, and the Commander took the opportunity to send a well placed kick to Ontari’s abdomen that had her crashing to the ground and landing flat on her back.

She scrambled backwards on all fours, eyes wild in fear and panic as she glanced around the clearing, searching for someone to come to her aid, but all the remaining Ice Nation warriors had either fled or been killed by Octavia and Luna’s ruthless attack. Lexa advanced on her, jaw clenched and shoulders rigid in anger as she brought her sword down on the other woman once more, knocking Ontari’s weapons from her grasp one at a time and furiously kicking them out of the way. Defenseless, Ontari could do nothing but retreat, crawling backwards until her back came into contact with the thick trunk of a towering tree, effectively leaving her with nowhere to go.

She held her hands up in front of her in a display of surrender, showing Lexa that she was giving up the fight, eyes wide and pleading behind unshed tears. “Commander,” she whimpered. “Please…”

Lexa stared at her, green eyes cold and calculating and jaw working back and forth as she chewed on an answer. Clarke knew there was only one way this would end; Lexa may have hesitated, but there was not even a trace of questioning or contemplation in her gaze, and she wasn’t surprised when the Commander spoke through gritted teeth. “ _Jus drein jus daun_ ,” she growled, her tone low and menacing. Lexa stepped forward and plunged her sword through the Ice Nation Nightblood’s chest with enough force to pin the girl’s body to the tree behind her, watching as a trail of black blood dripped down her chin and the life drained from her brown eyes.

She had avenged the death of her novitiates, and Clarke could see the way her shoulders deflated, breathing a visible sigh of relief as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. However, they returned to their same imposing rigidness a moment later as she whirled around on Clarke, fury ignited in her smoldering gaze as she yanked her sword free of the body with a sharp tug. “Clarke, what were you thinking?” she growled, crossing the clearing in three long strides. “You could have been killed! She could have killed you right then and there!”

“Lexa I—

Clarke opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by Lexa’s lips, crushing against her own and devouring any explanation she deigned to offer. The kiss was so hot, so completely raw and desperate, that Clarke thought she could literally feel the winter thawing around them, melting beneath the intensity of it. Lexa pulled away just as quickly as she had closed the distance, grabbing Clarke’s shoulders and holding her at an arm’s length so that she could scour her body with her eyes. Her hands were shaking, trembling against Clarke’s body, grasping her so tightly that it seemed as if she was checking to make sure she was real, clutching her like a dream that she didn’t want to fade away.

“Are you injured?” she rasped out, her voice strangled beneath the complete and utter panic that she couldn’t hide. “Did they hurt you?”

Clarke was stunned, completely taken aback by the loss of control that the ever-stoic Commander was displaying. “Lex, calm down,” she finally managed to stammer out, her tone gentle.

“Answer me, Clarke!” Lexa nearly shouted, anxiety coursing behind the green of her eyes and threatening to pull tears to the surface. Her hands came up to frame Clarke’s face, holding her gaze and practically begging for an answer with the fear that lingered behind her mask of smeared war paint.

Clarke brought her own hands up, closing around Lexa’s wrist in an attempt to calm her. “I’m fine,” she whispered, willing her to hear the truth in her words. “Baby, I’m fine,” she promised.

Lexa stared at her a moment as if pondering whether to trust the words, scanning Clarke’s body a second and third time before actually believing them to be true. When the fear left her features, it was replaced by boiling anger. “Clarke, don’t ever do something so foolish again!” she seethed. “You are lucky to be alive right now! What were you thinking?”

“We needed to find Nia,” Clarke replied, startled by her sudden change in demeanor. “Ontari led us straight to her.”

“We would have found another way!” Lexa snapped. “You are always driven to solve everyone’s problems for them, but your desire to fix things could have gotten you killed this time, Clarke!” she argued, her pale neck flushing red with the fury that she struggled to bite back.

“But it didn’t,” Clarke replied, calmly. “I’m okay, Lex. We’re all okay.”

Lexa’s gaze faltered, flickering down to her lips and back up to her eyes again as if debating whether she wanted to kiss her or reprimand her further. She settled on neither, breathing out a heavy sigh and letting her gaze fall, shaking her head in what appeared to be disbelief or possibly even relief. “Please, Clarke,” she whispered, suddenly losing all fight from her voice. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again. If they would have hurt you…if they would have taken you from me, I don’t know what I would do,” she said, the admission sounding like a quiet prayer on her trembling lips.

Clarke closed the space between their mouths once more, this time softly, pressing a tender kiss to Lexa’s lips as if to assure her that she belonged to her. “I won’t,” Clarke answered a she pulled away. “I promise.”

Lexa seemed to accept that, letting out a shaky breath that she had been holding in, hot against Clarke’s lips. They could have stayed like that, lost in each other despite the danger around them, if not for Octavia clearing her throat and shattering their moment of respite. “Look, I don’t mean to interrupt this touching love fest,” she said, holding back her laughter as Clarke and Lexa nearly jumped apart. “But, we’ve got a war to win,” she grinned, jerking a thumb in the direction of the cave.

“Sorry,” Clarke grumbled, feeling the tinge of red that flushed her cheeks.

“How do we know the Ice Bitch is even in there?” Octavia questioned, skepticism clear in her features. “I mean, it’s not like we snuck up on her. Clarke was firing a gun for shit’s sake, she had to have heard the battle going on outside if she was in there.”

“She’s in there,” Lexa assured her, staring at the gaping mouth of the cave that looked like a black hole, waiting to suck them in. “She hasn’t come out because she wants us to come inside.”

“You think it’s a trap?” Luna asked. Clarke had nearly forgotten she was there, always silent and observing, only lending her voice when asking a question or giving a directive.

Lexa nodded her response, but it was Octavia who spoke. “Only one way to find out,” she said.

Clarke shuddered, imagining all the possibilities of what danger could be lurking just beyond the line of sight, stalking them from the shadows and ready to jump out at any moment. “Let’s hope Bellamy gets here with the rover soon then,” she grumbled, taking the first timid steps towards the entrance of the cave.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The darkness nearly swallowed them whole as they waded through it, the dim sunlight streaming in from the opening illuminating their way until they disappeared around the first bend. The cave was deeper than Clarke thought, and they found themselves within a tunnel, closed in on all sides and nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead as they disappeared deeper and deeper into the earth. There was a chance that Nia had not heard the commotion of battle after all if the tunnel went on any longer, pulling them far from the surface above. They closed ranks, huddling together to defend each other on all sides despite the fact that they couldn’t see a thing, but Clarke figured that if they could not see the enemy, then the enemy could not see them.

She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath until her lungs burned, screaming for air and reminding her to breathe. The air was muggy and humid, smelling of wet earth and clay, thick with moisture that was clinging to their skin, beading across their foreheads and down the backs of their necks as it mixed with sweat. Clarke was out of ammo, nearly defenseless except for the knife that Lexa had handed her upon entering the cave, clutching it tightly in a vice-like grip as if her very life depended on keeping it close. Her other hand reached out and closed around Lexa’s, weaving their fingers together and drawing strength from each other’s proximity. Despite the fact that she was nearly blind, Lexa’s hand in hers made her feel undeniably safe.

For a moment, she thought that her eyes were finally adjusting to the complete darkness as she was able to see a few feet in front of her. She peered ahead, realizing that there was light streaming in from a corridor in front of them, illuminating their approach. As they got closer, Clarke could see that the light was not natural, casting dancing shadows across the walls with the motion of bouncing flames rather than the soft light of the outside morning sun. They heard voices echoing off the stone walls, locked in a heated discussion and paying no mind to their approach. 

 

When they rounded another corner, the tunnel opened up into a large cavern, lit by torches anchored to the walls and fire basins that were spread out around the floor. The ceiling was high, stalagmites hanging down like an ancient cathedral, reaching out towards them like fingers trying to pull them in. The room was filled with half a dozen people, sitting at a wooden table that had been brought in and discussing battle strategy. Nia sat at the head in her throne that was carved of wood and steal, woven into sharp patterns that shone like fresh ice in the dim firelight. Clarke recognized a few of the other people at the table as clan leaders that had been present in Lexa’s council meetings, and the remaining people Clarke assumed were either generals or guards.

Their presence went unnoticed for a moment as Nia continued on in whatever speech she had been rambling on about, only glancing up after all four of them had filtered into plain view. The Ice Queen trailed off midsentence, glancing up with winter in her gaze, the lightest shade of blue that Clarke had ever seen as if ice lived within the souls of her eyes. Her face had aged since the last time they had all been present in the same room, deep wrinkles framing the corners of her mouth as if pressed into her skin by the permanent frown that she wore. Her blonde hair looked nearly white, pulled back off her face and woven into a crown that was made of bone and steal. She wore a heavy white and grey shawl that appeared to be sewn together from wolf hides, draped over her shoulders and flowing down to the floor behind her even as she sat in her throne. Her jaw clenched tightly when her cold gaze fell on Lexa, rising slowly to her feet and clutching at some sort of metal scepter made of the same wood and metal as her ornate chair.

The clan leaders that sat around the table went wide-eyed in shock and terror, their faces draining of all color when they realized just who the intruders were. Clarke wished that she had bullets left in her gun so that she could quickly and mercilessly end the lives of these traitors, delivering the punishment for their betrayal swiftly and without hesitation. Instead, she gripped her knife tighter, feeling the way her knuckles cracked as her fingers wrung around the handle as if attempting to choke the life from the object. The two men that Clarke did not recognize stood quickly, pushing their chairs back and reaching to draw their swords, but they froze when Nia held up a sharp hand, halting their actions.

She looked calm, unfazed by the sudden intrusion as if she had been expecting it, and Clarke instantly felt a wave of fear at the possibility that they had indeed walked into a trap. However, they hadn’t run into anyone else in the tunnel as they made their way underground, and the cave appeared to end in the large cavern, so there was no other place that reinforcements could hide. It was clear that they were alone in there, and if a fight broke out, Clarke had faith that they could handle four scrawny diplomats and two war generals. Nia seemed to have something else on her mind entirely, a cold smile that looked entirely unnatural spread over her features as her eyes bounced between Lexa and Clarke.

“I somehow knew you would find your way here, Alexandria,” the woman spoke, her voice as icy as her appearance. “And I am not surprised to see _Wanheda_ at your side, though the absence of your _Fleimkepa_ is discerning. Where is Titus?” the woman asked.

“You are not worthy to even speak his name, Nia!” Lexa growled, her composure already unraveling. Clarke didn’t blame her and did not try to calm her. This was the woman who challenged her rule, gave her no choice but to battle Roan in a fight to the death, commanded the slaughter of her novitiates and destroyed the Coalition that Lexa had spent her life building. The tension in the air was so thick that it was practically visible, reflecting the dim firelight.

“Tender subject I see,” Nia mused, her tone amused. “I am curious though how it is that you found your way into our presence…” she pondered, voice trailing off as she considered the possibilities. “My messengers surely were not foolish enough to lead you here.”

“No, they were not,” Lexa agreed, sucking in a deep breath to center herself. “But your Nightblood was far too foolish, and Clarke is entirely too clever.”

“Was?” Nia asked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline the only visible sign of the emotions she kept hidden.

Lexa took a step further into the room, and Clarke watched her features for any sign of contentment or pleasure at having ended Ontari’s life, but instead all she saw was sadness. “Blood must have blood, Nia,” she replied, reiterating the timeless Grounder belief, the longing in her tone making it seem as if she wished otherwise.

Nia’s ice blue eyes flashed with a hint of pain before her cheeks flushed with anger and she let out a low growl. “I told that girl that her pride would one day get her killed,” she snarled, more to herself than the others in the room.

“The thing about pride, Nia, is that it has the ability to cloud our judgments,” Lexa began. “It can blur the lines of our inhibitions and it can destroy the rationality of our common sense. Pride can be a person’s greatest downfall…” her voice trailed away, her own thoughts swirling, and Clarke took the opportunity to pick up where she left off.

“Ontari’s pride may have gotten her killed, but your pride will lead to the death of your own people,” Clarke said. “You started a war that you do not know how to end, Nia,” she added, repeating the words that Anya once said to her. “For what?

“ _Clarke kom Skaikru_ ,” Nia sneered, her tongue slithering over the syllables like a poisonous snake. “I have to admit that I did underestimate your people. Replacing the supplies lost in Mount Weather by seeking an alliance with _Floukru_ was…unexpected,” she seethed, her eyes falling on Luna, cold and deadly. “But, your defenses can only hold out for so long against the numbers of my army.”

“Your army is dying,” Clarke shot back. “Your people are being slaughtered for your greed and a feud that you brought on yourself!”

Her words seemed to strike a nerve that had Nia slamming her fists down onto the table and glaring up at her with malice and pure hatred. “My army is doing its job!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the high ceiling of the cave. “ _Azgeda_ is the largest and strongest of the clans, it is our right to rule!”

Lexa stepped in front of Clarke, positioning herself defensively in front of her body as if to obscure her from Nia’s menacing view. “Sheer numbers do not make you a worthy leader, Nia,” she said, her features once again settling on impassive. “The loyalty and love of your people, and the wisdom to make sacrifices for the greater good, even if it means sacrificing oneself, are what make a worthy leader. You do not possess any of these.”

“How dare—

Nia began but Lexa held up a silencing hand that quickly cut her off, still captivating in her ability to command a room, even a room full of people who had betrayed her. “Our people are dying while you sit back and watch from the safety of this hole in the ground!” she yelled, so forcefully that even Clarke felt as if she wanted to retreat beneath it. “Take a walk outside and see the death and destruction that you have brought the people you claim that you are deserving of leading! Their sacrifices mean nothing to you!”

Clarke watched the way that Lexa held herself, chin high and spine impossibly straight, her voice booming off the walls and reverberating in the damp air around them. She was a wonder to behold, capturing attention and respect everywhere her emerald green eyes landed. She was like a storm; tame and controlled at times, her emotions delicate and soothing like the soft pattering of a gentle rain, and at other times wild and thundering, raging with enough intensity to drown the world in her seething gaze. She was the latter in that moment, eyes blaring where they bore into Nia, a hurricane whipping behind them, ready to rip trees from the earth and wipe her enemy away with the power that whirled around like a tornado within them.

“My warriors fight and die because it is their duty!” Nia retorted, her face sincere enough to prove that she actually believed those words. 

It was the faces of the other clan leaders within the room that now showed subtle hints of doubt, slowly creeping through them as they watched the exchange unfold. They saw the way Lexa held herself, the passion and strength for which she devoted to her people; the same passion and strength that had made Clarke fall in love with her long before she ever cared to admit. She was a goddess among men, far too wise and too good for the world in which they lived, yet condemned to carry the burden of trying to better it.

“Your people fight because they have no choice,” Lexa replied, jaw clenching with her own rage at the truth of the statement. “They fight because you brand them traitors and cowards if they do not. You slaughter their families and torture their loved ones if they do not fight in your name. And you,” Lexa snarled, eyes flicking between the other clan leaders that had turned their backs on the Coalition. “Why do you swear loyalty to Nia? What false claims of land and power has she offered you? How can you call yourselves worthy of leading your people when you let them die for you own selfish greed?” she questioned.

“And how are you any better than us, _Leksa kom Trikru_?” Nia asked, challenge and defiance weaving through her words. “Your people are out there fighting and dying for you too!”

“My people do not fight for me!” Lexa snapped. “They fight for the future that I stand for! They fight for the peace that I have promised and the possibility of living without the threat of war looming over them. There is not one soldier out there that is not fighting of his or her own free will, and that is why you will lose this war, Nia,” she finished, emphasizing her point by gesturing towards the tunnel that led out of the cave.

“Call off your forces, Nia,” Clarke said, stepping around Lexa’s protective stance to stand at the Commander’s side; united. “Stop the pointless bloodshed.”

The Ice Queen looked physically affronted, as if Clarke’s words had slapped her in the face, but then a wicked smile slowly spread over her features. “Or what?” she asked. “You cannot kill us,” she said, motioning towards the rest of the clan leaders. “Our armies will not retreat without direct orders from us.”

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to negotiate right now,” Clarke snapped back, motioning to the three highly skilled warriors that stood beside her, clearly capable of slaughtering the group of twisted politicians if they resisted.

“Oh, Clarke,” Nia tisked, her voice falling maliciously low. “I know that you did not seriously think that I had not planned ahead for this,” she said, using a hand gesture to encompass their presence in the cave. “You see, I knew that Lexa would seek me out, so while we’ve been engaged in this…riveting…conversation, my forces have moved to surround this cave. So, while you are under the impression that we are your prisoners, it is actually you who are the prisoner,” she finished, letting her grin spread full across her face now.

Clarke felt her heart sink low in her chest, practically shattering on impact as it undoubtedly collided with her stomach. She wanted to hold out hope that the woman was bluffing, but the look of sheer victory plastered on her cold features was enough to make her believe otherwise. That, coupled with Lexa shifting impossibly closer, getting ready to protect her with her life had panic surging through her mixed with the unmistakable feeling of devastation. They had come so close to ending it all; defying the overwhelming odds that had been stacked against them and bringing peace to their people. Her shock and fear was quickly replaced with anger as she glared at Nia’s triumphant expression, as if they had played right into yet another one of her schemes, and Clarke’s grip on the knife in her hand constricted to the point of near pain. If she was going to die here, she was taking the Ice Queen with her.

She was about to lunge, unable to contain her blind rage any longer, when the sound of gunshots from high above them broke through the heavy silence. It wasn’t just a few shots popping and cracking, it was one after another, repeating in an unbroken chain like the sound of an automatic weapon firing over and over again. Clarke watched as the triumphant grin slowly fell from Nia’s face and felt it slowly take hold of her own features, growing brighter still at the sight of Lexa’s own grin beside her. A moment later, the shots fell silent and the air grew heavy as if they were all holding their breath in anticipation, waiting to see what would come next.

The eerie quiet was broken by the sound of a familiar voice. “Octavia!” Bellamy shouted frantically from somewhere in the tunnel. “Clarke!” he called.

“Bell! We’re down here!” Octavia yelled back, rushing to throw her arms around her brother when the light from the front of his gun came flooding around the corner.

Bellamy nearly dropped his gun, slinging it towards his back on its strap so that he could pull Octavia into a crushing hug, scooping her off the ground and burying his face in her hair. “Are you okay?” he asked when he set her back on her feet. He glanced up then, suddenly realizing that he was interrupting a very serious situation. “Is that her?” he asked, motioning to Nia as his gaze went menacingly dark and his grip shifted back to the trigger of his gun. “Is that the Ice Queen?”

“Yes,” Lexa replied, stepping between Bellamy and Nia as if to ensure that he did not shoot her before they had a chance to finish their discussion. “We were just negotiating the terms of her surrender,” she added, turning her gaze back towards Nia and daring her to challenge her now that it was abundantly clear who held the upper hand.

Nia’s features flashed between shock and rage, eventually settling on cold fury. “I will not surrender!” she snarled like an animal backed into a corner.

“You have lost,” Lexa seethed. “Stop this foolish bloodshed.”

“You know nothing of loss!” Nia retaliated, spitting her rage with her words. “You know nothing of loss until you’ve seen both of your sons die at the hands of the same person,” she said, lowering her tone.

Clarke could tell that Lexa wanted to argue; that she wanted to point out Nia was the one who killed Costia and destroyed her entire life’s work when she split the Coalition, but the truth was, this wasn’t about their feud between each other. Lexa was wise enough to know that, and her jaw clenched back and forth the way it did when she was selecting her words carefully. “Your greed is what forced their deaths onto me,” she replied. “Your mistakes are what led to their demise. The difference between you an me, Nia, is that I can own the mistakes that I make.”

The Ice Queen scoffed, unable to choke back her disdain. “Your words are always so pretty, Lexa,” she growled “So eloquent and laced with wisdom, yet your actions are laced with weakness. _Skaikru_ invaded our lands and killed three hundred of our warriors, yet you let them live and chose to ally with them; you had a chance to wipe the Mountain Men from the face of the earth, yet you retreated and let the Sky People do it for you; _Skaikru_ ’s technology poses a threat to our very existence, yet instead of eliminating them, you let them join the Coalition and then fall in love with their leader! Your words may be wise, Lexa, but your actions are weak. You do not have the strength to lead our people.”

Lexa stared at her a moment as if caught off guard by her accusations, but Clarke could see the thoughts and knowledge swimming in her eyes. She was entirely calm when she spoke. “I find it suspect, Nia, that you preach about strength and weakness when you lack the strength to fight for and beside your own people. You sit back in your cave and let them die for you, while I sacrifice myself and the people that I love time and time again to secure the future of my people. So who is really the weak one here?” she asked.

Nia’s shoulders deflated slightly, though she quickly hid it by shoving her chair out from behind her and closing the distance between herself and Lexa so that they were standing mere inches away, gazing into each other’s eyes as if locked in battle to see who would back down first. “I am far from weak, Alexandria,” she said, her tone so low and boiling with hatred that Clarke had to strain to hear it.

“Prove it,” Lexa snapped back, keeping her chin high. “You are challenged. Call off your army and let us end this once and for all, you and I, _solo gonplei_. To the death. No more of our people need to die for this conflict.”

Nia’s ice blue eyes went wide, first with shock, and then with fear, flicking away from Lexa’s gaze as if searching for an excuse or a way out, but her options were quickly silenced when one of the other clan leaders spoke up. “This is a fair challenge, Nia,” the man said. “We will withdraw our armies.”

The other three clan leaders mumbled their agreement, swayed by either Lexa’s actions or her words, or perhaps entirely fed up with losing so many of their people to violent and brutal ends. Or perhaps they were just biding their time, doing all that they could to not meet their own end on charges of treason. Whatever the reason was, it was clear that they no longer lent their full support to the Ice Queen, and despite the vastness of the Ice Nation army, they could not win a war of this magnitude on their own. Nia had no choice in the matter anymore.

“Fight and prove your strength, or surrender and die by forty-nine cuts,” Lexa said, driving her point further.

“Very well,” the Ice Queen whispered, trying and failing to hide the trepidation in her voice. “I will sound the retreat. I accept your challenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, sticking true to my theme of doing our characters justice, I was happy to write the scene in which Lincoln survived. I also really loved writing the character interactions with Octavia in this chapter and the fact that she told Bellamy that she is not his responsibility, because honestly (in my personal opinion) I hate that line; she's strong enough to take care of herself. Also, I really wanted to focus on the strength of the female characters in this chapter seeing as the show definitely made use of side-lining them and reducing them for man pain and pointless plots. By leaving Bellamy and Lincoln back in Arkadia, it allowed the women to again be the strength of the narrative, and I wanted to play with that a bit. Also, if you haven't realized by now, I really enjoy a sense of irony in my writing, which is why I made the choice to have Lexa challenge Nia rather than just killing her; the irony of it being that Nia had challenged Lexa to try and prove that she was not strong enough to lead, whereas Lexa has now challenged Nia in return, reversing the roles in an effort to prove that she is far stronger than Nia ever could be. I'm really looking forward to writing that scene next week. I have an insanely busy week coming up and I'm going to fit in writing where I can, but I don't know how much I'll be able to get done with my work schedule. I'm thinking the next update will most likely be Saturday or Sunday, but the good news is I'm planning on posting the final two sections at the same time, so bare with me because I want to make sure I do this ending the justice that it deserves. See you guys soon!
> 
> -Alex


	17. Part Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Well, it's been a long week and this was an emotional ride to write. I'm pretty sure I wrote and rewrote a few of the scenes at least four or five times trying to get it right, and I really hope that I did it justice. So without further delay (as I know you all are dying to see how the story ends), here is Part Seventeen.
> 
> -Alex

The ground was charred and blackened beneath Clarke’s feet, still smoldering in some spots and reeking of burnt flesh, crunching sickeningly beneath her boots as she walked alongside Lexa. The spots that weren’t baked from the bombs that had gone off were soaked in blood, seeping deep into the fractured earth as if to water the soil and give it new life from the death of the hundreds that had perished. They’d escorted Nia and her cohorts from the cave in handcuffs, driving them out to the front lines to call a ceasefire and end the suffering, and now, beneath the noon sun that had finally mustered enough strength to break through the storming clouds, they surveyed the damage and collected their dead.

Despite the overwhelming odds, it was evident in the bodies that littered the earth that Ice Nation and their allies had suffered the greatest loss. That’s not to say that the Coalition forces did not suffer as well as many of the bodies the Clarke stepped carefully around were of warriors of the clans that had fought alongside _Skaikru_. Cries of pain and moans of discomfort from the wounded that had not yet been tended to echoed through the air like an eerie melody, their agony reflected in the slumping nature of Lexa’s posture, her shoulders sinking as if crushed by the weight of bodies that claimed the ground at their feet. 

There was nothing left of the field that had once been tilled and sewn with crops just beyond the gates of Arkadia, instead now replaced by a ruined battlefield and destruction so great that it was hard to imagine it had ever been anything else. The trees nearest where the fighting had gone on were blackened and burnt by fire, riddled with bullet holes and covered in the sticky crimson sheen of dried blood. Members of both _Azgeda_ and the Coalition as well as people from _Skaikru_ hurried about the war zone, locating the remaining injured warriors that were begging for aid and rushing them towards clan healers for medical assistance. The bodies that laid still, eyes distant and hazy, glassed over in death, were being collected at a far slower pace, identified by the colors and crests they wore before being carried off towards a massive funeral pyre that was already burning just outside the walls of Arkadia.

Despite the carnage that reined rampant around them, there were no cries of loss or mourning, there were no wails at the sight of a deceased loved one, there were no curses or calls for vengeance; there was only calm, solemn acceptance. It was then that Clarke realized how much the prospect of peace meant to these people, and how desperately they needed it. The entire Grounder culture had become desensitized to war and violence, death and killing, that they had grown used to seeing loved ones die and sacrificing themselves for the quarrels of their leaders. Blood had always demanded blood, and violence had always answered violence. It was a bitter contrast to the cooperation and unity that Clarke had seen in Polis what now felt like ages ago; the collaboration and harmony that had undoubtedly changed the way she thought about the Grounder culture. That cooperation disappeared out here, replaced only by downcast eyes and resigned mouths pressed into grim lines, accepting the crushing belief that death and violence were how they survived in this world. 

That was until defeated, empty gazes and despondent faces caught sight of their Commander weaving through the craters of the battlefield. Clarke felt a rush of love and unbridled admiration as she watched the despair etched into the features of their people change quickly into resounding, uncontained hope. She saw those that were injured and those that aided the wounded stop in their mitigations and reach out to touch Lexa’s shoulders, clasp her hand, bow their heads or whisper their praise. She watched as Lexa paid careful attention to each person, acknowledging them, comforting them, loving each of them individually and bringing them solace through her presence alone. It was clear on their faces that despite the tremendous losses and the aches of battle, they believed in their Commander, and they had unwavering faith in her vision for the future. Clarke was stunned to see the even the warriors of Ice Nation and the clans that fought with them showed respect to Lexa, their sunken eyes tired and pleading as if begging for respite.

“Look at them, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her arm resting absently on the hilt of her sword in its sheath at her side. “Our people are resigned to a life of sacrifice and brutality. It is the only way that they know.”

“You will show them a different way,” Clarke answered, willing her voice to reflect the same hope and faith she had in Lexa that the eyes of their people held. “When you look at them, you see pain and suffering, but when I look at them, I see hope. They believe in you, Lexa. They believe in your vision.”

“Clarke is right, Lexa,” Luna offered from the Commander’s other side. She had wrapped a long grey scarf around her nose to shelter her from the pungent scent of death and burnt flesh, her wild brown hair cascading out in strands from beneath. The prospect of peace was not a new concept to the _Floukru_ leader, and it was fitting that she would be at Lexa’s side when their people finally laid their weapons to rest. “Our people have known nothing but war for a hundred years. The time for peace is here. They are tired.”

Lexa breathed a heavy sigh that streamed from her mouth in a long puff of white, emerald eyes scanning the piles of bodies and unclaimed weapons. “Victory stands on the back of sacrifice,” she muttered, reiterating the words that Clarke had heard her say a dozen times before. “But is there ever a time when one has sacrificed too much?” she asked. It was the first time that Clarke had ever heard Lexa question her own wisdom and resolve, and she could tell that the uncertainty was stemming through a place of pain and regret. It was hard not to feel pain at the sight of so much needless death and bloodshed, fueled by the selfish desires of a few and the blind expense of many.

“The sacrifice is Nia’s, not your own, Alexandria,” Luna reminded her, sounding very similar to Titus as knowledge and understanding glinted presently in her kind brown eyes.

“Nia’s people are my people,” Lexa replied, grimacing slightly as her boot crunched over a brittle bone, singed and burnt to a crisp, undoubtedly belonging to someone who had been alive no more than a day ago. “Their deaths are my deaths.”

Luna nodded her understanding, contemplating her words carefully before she spoke again. “Then end the killing, Lexa,” she said. “There need only be one more death. Then we will have our peace.”

Lexa’s face was impassive, but her eyes shimmered with what looked like hope as she stared straight ahead. Clarke couldn’t help but notice how exhausted she appeared, the bags under her eyes only partially concealed by the black war paint that had smudged to a smoky grey color. Her gait was slow and lacking purpose, as if just absorbing the scene around them and requiring slow, careful steps in order to process it. Her wild brown hair was matted with blood and knotted in various tangles and her dark overcoat was caked with her own black blood below her ribcage where Ontari had landed a careful strike, the wound long since coagulated and no longer seeping. Her posture, albeit rigid and imposing, looking carefully composed to anyone other than Clarke, seemed to droop ever so slightly as if the carnage of battle had taken ten years off her life in the time span of a single night. But the glow in her eyes slightly returned at Luna’s words, and again she let out a long sigh, this time rejuvenating as she steeled herself and pushed her insecurities at bay.

“One more death,” Lexa agreed, jaw clenching slightly in anticipation.

As they got nearer to the walls of Arkadia, Clarke could see that the gates were standing wide open despite the fact that the Ice Nation army was looming just on the other side of the field and in the tree line beyond view. _Azgeda_ had already pitched makeshift tents and huts of their own, shielding them from the cold and looking like a sea of canvas in the distance, under strict orders to remain in their camp unless they were helping with the wounded or collecting the dead. Clarke knew that Octavia and Bellamy had taken Nia into custody, placing her in a holding cell in Arkadia until her trial by combat, but that meant the Ice Nation forces were under the leadership of the third in command, seeing as Ontari had been killed. The Ice Nation general, who had been on the front lines of the battle fighting alongside his warriors that had bled and died for nothing, was more than willing to cooperate, upholding the fragile ceasefire that had been put in place for the time being. The clan leaders that had cooperated with Nia were also in custody, their fates to be determined following Lexa and Nia’s fight that had been set for sundown.

Just outside the gates, Clarke could see Abby directing a triage, sorting the remaining wounded based upon the severity of their wounds and the urgency of their need for medial attention. She looked entirely worse for wear, her navy blue medical uniform stained red with blood from head to toe as she waved her hands and barked out orders to the healers that were assisting her. Even her hair, which was pulled in a single braid behind her head, looked soaked with blood as if she had bathed in it. Her eyes, which were framed in dark black circles from lack of sleep, were focused and diligent as they scanned over injuries, quickly assessing patients before moving on to the next. Her routine of surveying the wounded only faltered when she glanced up and caught sight of Clarke observing her from a distance away.

She whirled around, quickly snapping at Jackson to take over before turning and sprinting towards Clarke, closing the distance between them in seconds as she hurled herself into her daughter’s waiting arms. She smelled of antiseptic and rust, the iron in the blood clinging to her clothes lending a sickly sweet scent to the air around her. Clarke felt as if she was on the verge of suffocating in the tight, trembling frame of her mother’s arms, clinging to her so desperately that she might crumble to ash and dust if she ever let go. Her mother’s shoulders were shaking violently beneath sobs of relief, and when they finally parted, Clarke was not surprised to see the tears that flowed freely down her pale cheeks.

“Clarke,” she rasped, struggling to gain control of her emotions. “You’re okay,” she whispered the words in disbelief as if they had been nothing short of a miracle.

“Yeah, Mom,” Clarke replied, reaching up to thumb the tears from Abby’s cheeks. “I’m fine. We’re all fine,” she added, motioning to Lexa and Luna at her side.

Abby’s eyes darted to the wound just below Lexa’s rib cage and her hands instantly flew into action, dusting over the wound and examining it before offering a slight nod as if confirming that she was indeed okay. Clarke thought she caught her mother’s shoulders deflate in a sigh of relief before pulling Lexa into an embrace of her own. “Thank you,” she whispered as Lexa’s arms came up around her, no longer showing the hesitation she once displayed. “For bringing my daughter back to me, and for saving my people. You are not the person I thought you were.”

Lexa pulled away but allowed the doctor to rest her hands on her shoulders, putting enough distance between them to hold her gaze. When she spoke, her words were not at all what Clarke expected. “You should be thanking Clarke,” she said. “I would not be here without her. None of us would be. You should be proud of the woman you have raised, Doctor Griffin,” Lexa said, taking them both by surprise.

“I am,” Abby replied with a sad smile, turning to her daughter. “Her father would be too.”

Clarke nearly choked at that, feeling tears pooling behind her eyes that matched the clenching feeling in her heart at the thought of her father. His death, and many things that had happened since then, had broken her, but somewhere along the way, she had begun to heal and Lexa had been the one to pull her out of the darkness and back into the light. Standing there, staring at the woman she loved interacting so fondly and respectfully with her mother gave her a sense of indescribable pride and hope that maybe one day their lives could be about more than just surviving and serving their people. They had come so far since the start of it all, since the day that Lexa had left Clarke at Mount Weather, and everything that had occurred as a result of it. Now, finally standing at the end of a war and on the brink of peace, the future that Clarke longed for and Lexa dreamed of was nearly in reaching distance.

The Commander surprised Clarke further still when she pulled the doctor’s attention back in with a simple request. “Abby, when you’ve finished with the patients here, I would greatly appreciate it if you and your team could attend the Ice Nation camp. I am sure that they have wounded that could benefit from your medical expertise.”

Abby looked stunned for a moment, caught off guard by Lexa’s drive to constantly help her people, including those who stood against her. “Is that safe?” Abby asked, though her tone did not sound unwilling.

“They will not harm you,” Lexa answered, offering her a slight reassuring smile. “Their general has agreed to the terms of a ceasefire. Despite the banner they fly, they are still my people, and I would see them aided if I could,” she explained.

“Of course,” Abby replied without hesitation. It was in her oath, as a doctor, to help all those in need of medical attention, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel pride for her mother. Very recently, their relationship had been toxic and turbulent, existing on the lines of blame and loathing for their individual actions in the past, but that too had come a long way since the start of it all. Clarke thought, for the first time since her father died, that their relationship was finally healed.

“I will go with them to ensure their safety,” Luna piped in, earning a nod of gratitude from the Commander. Abby pulled them each in for one last hug, pressing kisses to both of their cheeks before turning and setting off to help the wounded with Luna following closely behind.

After Abby and Luna had scurried off, Lexa turned to Clarke, offering her a slight, sad smile, the bittersweet moment not lost between them. She knew that Lexa was not done risking her life yet, that their people may have been safe for now, but she could not underestimate the Ice Queen. She had faith in Lexa’s ability, in her skilled fighting and the effortless way she wielded a sword, but Nia was like a cockroach, and roaches did not die easily. Luna’s words before echoed in her ears, the truth behind them welling a ball of fear and nerves in her stomach; one more person would die that day. She let out a shaky breath and returned Lexa’s grin with a timid one of her own, knowing in her heart that the love of her life would not falter now. Not when they were so close.

She followed Lexa through the gates of Arkadia, taking in the chaos that still ensued around them as people rushed about, searching for their loved ones and looking for supplies. The walls had not been breached during the battle, but it was hard to tell at that moment with the amount of blood that soaked the snow at their feet in the courtyard, trailing from the front gate to the medical wing. Still, there was a warmth in the air, a sort of excitement and relief that buzzed all around them, contentment in the fact that they had survived the onslaught. Clarke searched the faces of the people who huddled around fires, sharing meals and speaking in hushed tones, and realized that she saw no divide between _Skaikru_ and the Grounders. They were intermingled with each other, speaking in both English and _Trigedasleng_ , helping one another with the wounded and passing food from group to group. There was no difference in the expressions they wore or the weight they carried on their shoulders, each of them having seen and survived a war. They were united now, both in name, as clans of the Coalition, and in the unbreakable bond they shared that came with spilling blood side by side in battle. Those that mingled about, hair mused and expressions grim, were no longer of the sky and of the ground, but rather all were simply just survivors.

The sight sent chills down Clarke’s spine, and she spared a glance over at Lexa, seeing the same reverence and appreciation in the green of her eyes, both relieved and devastated. They were thankful for those that had survived, happy that despite the overwhelming odds, they had made it out alive and intact, but at the same time they were feeling the undeniable hole of the losses they had suffered and the people who had not returned through those gates. It was hard not to feel indifferent, numb almost, as the two most poignant emotions of sadness and joy cancelled each other out, instead leaving them feeling exhausted and empty.

Lexa’s eyes searched the crowd, clearly intent on finding something and then softening slightly when they landed on their target. Indra stood beside Charles Pike, locked in a discussion and whispering in low tones as if they were arguing a heated point, motioning towards the front gates of Arkadia. Indra’s arm was secured to her chest in a sling, clearly put in place to keep it immobile, and Clarke wondered what injury she suffered, but thanked whatever powers in play that she was okay. Pike appeared seemingly well, uninjured though his body sagged with exhaustion and his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, yet he remained upright, clutching his gun tightly to his chest as if ready to use it at a second’s notice. She didn’t blame him; after charging into the fray of battle, he would likely feel the need to have a weapon by his side for the rest of his life.

Indra spotted Lexa and Clarke shuffling through the crowds of people and instantly patted Pike on the shoulder, motioning in their direction before leaving him behind and rushing straight towards them. Lexa moved to meet her halfway and for a moment, Clarke thought that the two hardened warriors might embrace, but was not surprised when they came to an abrupt stop in front of each other and instead clasped forearms in their typical greeting. However, there was an urgency to the gesture this time that Clarke had never seen before, unspoken and burning between them as relief flooded their faces mingled with an unmistakable hint of despair.

“Heda,” Indra said, her voice laced with respite that she could not disguise. “It is good to see you.”

“You as well, Indra,” Lexa replied with a single nod of respect. “You have done your duty to our people in a way that far exceeded my expectation.”

Indra sucked in a breath, seemingly startled by the compliment, or perhaps struggling to accept it. “We suffered many losses…” she trailed off, though her gaze never left her Commander’s.

“We would have suffered far more had anyone else been leading our forces,” Lexa replied, placing a hand on Indra’s shoulder. “You have done well, Indra.”

“What more can I do?” she asked.

“My friend, you have done more than enough,” Lexa answered. “Rest. Heal. That is what you can do. I will handle the rest.”

Indra nodded, though opened her mouth as if she was about to protest but was cut off by the sound of a shrill voice shouting Clarke’s name. Clarke barely had time to brace herself before Raven came barreling into her arms, nearly knocking her off her feet if not for Lexa’s solid grip and quick reaction time, helping them stay upright. Raven was trembling in Clarke’s arms, both excited and shaken, undoubtedly replaying the carnage she’d seen on the battlefield over and over again in her mind. Clarke was shocked to see her friend pull away and go straight to Lexa, yanking the Commander into a desperate embrace of her own, the resentment she had once felt clearly dissipating and replacing itself with relief. There were tears in her eyes when she pulled away, followed by a slight tinge of red in her cheeks and a sly smile.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Griffin,” she deadpanned, glancing at Clarke. “I’m just happy to see that you’re still alive. You and Commander Heart Eyes,” she motioned towards Lexa who stood rigidly beside Clarke, surprised by the sudden unexpected display of emotion.

“I’m happy to see you too, Ray,” Clarke replied, unable to hide her smile at Lexa’s baffled expression. “Have you seen O and Bell yet?”

“Bellamy is in the holding cell with the Ice Bitch, and O is in the medical wing with Lincoln,” she answered. “Sinclair and I are doing our best to keep the power on in the Ark, the generators aren’t meant to support this many people.”

Clarke nodded feeling a slight twinge of nerves twist in her stomach. “How is Lincoln doing?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Doctor G patched him up, he’s gonna be fine,” Raven replied. “He was more worried about Octavia than the hole in his leg.”

“And our people?” Clarke asked. “Who did we lose in the battle?”

Raven’s eyes fell for a moment, unable to mask the sadness that swam behind them. “Monty’s mom,” she said. “And a few others from farm station that followed Pike into the center of the battle. The Grounders definitely lost more than we did,” she added, offering Lexa a sorrowful nod.

Clarke’s heart broke for Monty and for her people who had lost loved ones, but it shattered for the Grounders that had given their lives to defend her people. For all of those who had sacrificed themselves to fight in a battle to safeguard their future and to defend Lexa’s vision, putting their lives in the hands of their Commander. Lexa’s eyes revealed the same shattering pain that Clarke felt, however she carried within them knowledge as well and understanding that in war, people die. Lexa had seen four wars before, and was not a stranger to the sacrifices that duty called for, and although her people had died defending Arkadia, they had died for a cause that they believed in, and that was more than Nia could have ever offered her army.

“We will lose no more people after this day, Raven,” Lexa assured her. “The ones we did lose will live on in our memory; honored in the future that we make for ourselves and the legacy they left behind.”

Raven blinked a few times, nodding her understanding, but of course destroyed the moment once she opened her mouth. “Okay, Fortune Cookie, how bout we just focus on you kicking the shit out of that frozen bitch?” she asked in typical Raven fashion.

Lexa arched a perfect, quizzical eyebrow, amused and slightly irritated, as she often was whenever Raven was around. “Nia will fall,” she replied, her voice confident and unwavering.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The inside of Lexa's tent was lit by the familiar glow of dozens of dancing candles that lent the scent of smoke to Lexa's hair that Clarke loved so much, mixed with the natural light of the late afternoon sun filtering in through the canvas. The Commander sat at the edge of the bed methodically weaving her damp hair back into braids; the furs had been changed out since Titus's death and no longer bore the rust red stains of dried blood, but were rather clean and welcoming, concealing the tragedy that had occurred there. They had bathed together; washing away the blood and dirt that layered itself on their skin, but had been unsuccessful in washing away the images of the war they'd survived still fresh in their minds. The air between them was fragile; the sort of simple longing that came with being so near the end of something that had dragged on for ages like the way one feels at the end of the year, counting down those last few seconds until midnight. 

When Lexa finished with her hair, pulled back in tight braids across the top of her head and falling loosely in wild waves down her back, she moved on to her war paint. She scooped a couple of fingers full from a nearby jar and began painting across her cheeks and down her face from memory, staring blankly ahead with far away eyes and clearly lost in a world of her own. Clarke watched her, observing the way her hand moved as if on automatic will of its own, and longed for her fingers to be the ones caressing across those high cheek bones and down her sharp jaw line. Lexa had changed after their bath, shedding her powerful battle armor and shoulder guard in exchange for a simple charcoal grey overcoat lined with black and brown fur down the collar and cuffs and tying intricately across her waist. She didn't wear her bone-framed bracers that usually adorned her wrists and hands and didn't bother with an extra sheath of throwing knives that normally accompanied her thigh. Instead, she dressed modestly, humble almost, in dark colors and plain boots, unwilling to make a spectacle of the pending fight between herself and the Ice Queen. The occasion did not call for showy armor or flashy weapons and Clarke thought she looked more fierce now, in simple black Grounder attire as if going to a funeral, than she had ever seen her before in heavy armor or perched atop her throne.

Giving in to her needs, as she often did when it came to Lexa, Clarke sighed and closed the distance between them, snatching the jar of face paint from the Commander's hands. "Here, let me," she whispered, not actually offering a choice.

Lexa blinked a few times, smiling gently at Clarke's sudden proximity and closing her eyes as the blonde's fingers etched paint across her perfect cheekbones. "I never thought my face would be your canvas, Clarke," she whispered, trying to keep as still as possible.

Clarke let out a slight laugh. "Your face is already art, Lex," she replied with simple truth. A small grin tugged up the corner of Lexa's mouth, but she did not speak, instead letting a comfortable silence linger between them and practically melting beneath Clarke's touch. "What are you thinking about, baby?" Clarke asked, simply for the need of hearing her lover's voice.

She knew that the Commander's mind was likely focusing on the fight to come, preparing herself mentally for one last brawl and running on no sleep for nearly two days but her answer was not quite what Clarke expected. "I am thinking about the Coalition," Lexa replied. "How to repair it without having to execute those who broke it."

"Your ambassadors and clan leaders betrayed you. How do you move on from that?" Clarke questioned, having wondered about the fates of those in the holding cells beside Nia.

Lexa kept her eyes sealed shut as she answered, allowing Clarke to put the delicate finishing touches on her war paint. "They were just doing what they believed was best for their people too, Clarke," she said. "I cannot condemn them for that."

"So, what will you do?" Clarke asked.

Lexa's eyes popped open, endless emerald green shining brightly against the deep black frame, completely yanking Clarke's breath from her lungs. "The law demands that they be executed for their treason," she supplied, the tone of her voice thoughtful. "Part of being a great leader is knowing when to enforce the law," she said. "But more importantly, knowing when not to."

"You're going to let them live?" Clarke asked, trying desperately to hide the shock in her voice but knowing that she failed to keep it from her face as their gazes locked.

"They will keep their lives," Lexa nodded. "I refuse to muddle the lines of duty and fear as Nia has. Sometimes it is best to answer actions with mercy rather than vengeance."

Clarke stared at her for a moment, trying desperately to come up with the words that could accurately summarize all that she was feeling as her mind struggled to come to grips with the fact that this woman was hers. This wise, beautiful, brave woman that ruled with limitless knowledge and compassion and carried the strength of an entire civilization on her shoulders and in her heart; this woman was hers. And Clarke loved her. She loved her more than all the trees in the forests of Lexa's eyes and more than all the stars that reflected in the blue of her own combined, and she would do anything to show her. She let her know by swiftly closing the small space between their lips, crushing their mouths together in a kiss that spoke far louder than words ever could. Their mouths melted in to each other and moved in unison as if fitting together the last few pieces of a lifelong puzzle, and Clarke knew that no matter where they were or what their future held, Lexa was her home.

When they parted, Clarke could still taste her on her lips and feel the gentle bursts of air as Lexa breathed into her, warm and familiar. "What was that for?" the Commander asked, still only a centimeter away.

"Because you are undoubtedly the most amazing person I have ever met, and I love you," Clarke answered. "And I hope that maybe one day, you and I can have a life together," she added

"One day at a time, Clarke," Lexa replied, pulling away slightly so that Clarke could see the hope that lived in her eyes, burning softly like an ember waiting to ignite an inferno. "First, I must survive this challenge against Nia."

Clarke arched a quizzical brow at her, wanting for a second to ask if she was serious but then reconsidering, afraid for Lexa to be so confident as to let her guard down. "You better," she settled on instead.

Lexa grinned again, amused by the fierce protectiveness in Clarke's voice. She leaned forward, urging closer for another hungry kiss when a familiar voice had them pulling apart. "Lexa?" Aden called from the other room.

"Clarke?" what sounded like Abby followed.

"Coming!" Clarke answered, pressing her lips to Lexa's one last time before standing and pulling her up from her position at the end of the bed.

"You two aren't naked, right?" Aden asked timidly.

Lexa rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air before striding over to the flaps that partitioned the bedroom from the main hall and pushing them open. "No, Aden," she replied, failing to keep a slight edge of embarrassment from her tone. "What are you doing out of bed?" she questioned.

Clarke followed Lexa through the door, finding Aden and Abby waiting expectantly. The boy leaned most of his weight against the doctor, but Clarke could see the slight flush of color returning to his cheeks and the way that his legs hardly trembled anymore, already looking so much stronger than he had the day before. The puffy wads of bandages that had been wound and layered around his head were now replaced with a single layer of gauze, covering the stitches that would be there for a few more weeks. His shoulder was still bandaged but no longer bound to his chest, instead resting in a sling to keep it immobile. She was amazed at how much better he looked, fully aware of the fact that he was lucky to even be alive yet alone well on his way to recovery, and she found herself letting out a shaky sigh of relief. Abby stood at Aden's side, her arm slung around his waist and wearing an apologetic grin on her face, offering the Commander a slight shrug.

"I know you did not think I would miss supporting you through your battle with the Ice Queen," he scoffed as if appalled by the question. "I'm here for you, Heda."

Lexa arched a questioning brow at the doctor who just shrugged even further still. "He's a stubborn kid," she offered.

"Hmm," Clarke hummed. "I wonder where he gets it from?" she deadpanned, shooting a wink in the Commander's direction.

"You must be referring to yourself, Clarke," Lexa quipped. "Your stubbornness far overshadows my own."

"I'll second that," Abby chimed in.

Lexa returned Clarke's wink and the exchange had all three of the women smiling as silence settled around them like a veil and thick tension filled the air. “Very well,” she sighed. "Is it time?"

“Yes,” the doctor nodded, her eyes slightly falling. “Kane just brought her out.”

The Commander sucked in a deep, centering breath and let it out slowly, allowing all manner of playfulness that had been there a moment before leave her body. “Then let us end this,” she said, striding forward with confidence in her shoulders and a new sense of anger radiating in her rigid posture. She was ready.

Clarke took a steadying breath of her own, offering her mother and Aden a nod before whisking from the room on Lexa’s heels, intent to be by her side for as long as possible. She didn’t have to look back to know that the others had followed, and as they moved towards the gates, she could feel the eyes of every person in Arkadia on them, watching with contained hope to see how the events would unfold. The _solo gonplei_ would take place at the center of the ruined battlefield, amidst the ashes and bones of the fallen, ending in the place where it all began. Clarke turned her gaze towards the sky, searching for warmth and reassurance from the fading evening sun, but finding it nowhere in sight, instead feeling only a chilling breeze whip around the fringes of her jacket. She wanted to reach for Lexa’s hand, but fought against every urge in her body that was screaming at her to do so, and instead settled for simply and purposefully brushing their arms together to draw comfort from the small bit of contact.

They walked through the gates and out into the open field that once held so much life, but was now the resting ground of immeasurable death. To the right, the massive funeral pyre burned near the line of the trees, sending thick black plumes of smoke high into the air as the fallen went up in immense yellow flames. The air smelled of smoke and burning flesh and Clarke had to choke back the bile that was threatening to escape her stomach, only breathing a sigh of relief when the wind shifted and carried the stench away, replacing it with the crisp scent of pine trees and winter. A fresh layer of snow had fallen on the battlefield, hiding the scorched and blackened ground beneath a sheet of soft white powder that saved their footprints as they made their way toward the center of the field. A crowd had already gathered as people from all clans came to witness the duel, but they were not wild and rowdy as they were in Polis when Lexa faced Roan, instead rather subdued and speaking in hushed tones as Lexa and Clarke made their approach.

The sea of people parted when they neared, funneling out so that they could make their way towards the center. They held out their hands as Lexa gently wove her way through them, reaching out to grab her or letting their fingers brush her shoulders, muttering words of respect and praise and wishing her luck in _Trigedasleng_. Lexa kept her eyes forward, focused and narrowed on her target, brimming with undeterred concentration. Up ahead, Clarke could make out the shape of the Ice Queen standing beside Kane and Bellamy, and she instantly felt the calm and confident sensation she’d had in the tent leave her, replaced now with fear and worry.

Nia appeared ready, her ice blue eyes dangerous and calculating as they landed on Lexa, scrutinizing her opponent from top to bottom and undoubtedly formulating some sort of lethal plan. She wore the same grey shawl she had when they’d taken her captive, and it just barely kissed the snow behind her feet as if to worship the ground she walked on. Her blonde hair was pulled back into high braids off of her face, putting the rigid scars of her clan on full display where they framed her high cheekbones and scheming eyes. She wore a confident smirk, almost as if she invited this fight and Lexa had indulged her wish, her posture firm and commanding as she held her chin high in defiance. She grasped a wickedly sharp sword that looked like it had been forged for her alone, and Clarke realized that it was the same sword Roan had fought with in Polis when Lexa defeated Nia’s challenge the first time.

Clarke wanted to be confident. She wanted to believe that the fight would be quick and painless and that Lexa would end this threat without breaking a sweat, but seeing Nia so calm and composed had struck a nerve in her. She felt the same dread creep in that had kept her paralyzed on Lexa’s balcony in Polis before her fight with Roan, only able to pull herself from the brink of panic and terror when Aden talked her out of it. She reached for him now, surprised to find his hand outstretched and waiting as they came to a stop just outside the circular clearing at the center of the massive gathering of people. He gave her a tight, reassuring squeeze, and once again she felt calm settling in, taming her frazzled nerves.

Lexa continued to the center of the fighting ring, appearing at ease as she sauntered forward, green eyes scanning the crowd, flicking over each face and absorbing the moment as if to remind herself exactly what it was that she was fighting for. She turned and her gaze fell on Clarke, offering her a slight smile in an effort to comfort her before nodding once and turning towards the Ice Queen. Her spine was straight and her shoulders were square, and even in humble attire, she held herself in a way that exuded power and confidence. It dawned on Clarke then that all roads had led to this moment; this was the very instance that Lexa had fought for her entire life, and this would be the hour that ended it all. Suddenly, she didn’t feel as nervous anymore, trusting that fate had led them this far, had brought them together, had kept them safe, and would continue to do so in the coming minutes.

“Warriors of the Coalition, of _Azgeda_ , and of _Skaikru_ ,” Lexa began, her voice strong and dominant, rising high above the masses of people and undoubtedly reaching those that stood in the back. “We come before you to enact the rite of _Solo Gonplei_ , the challenge of leaders in a fight to the death so that no more of our people need die,” she explained. “Queen Nia of _Azgeda_ has accepted my challenge.”

Nia watched the Commander with fury burning in her cold gaze like fire frozen in ice, her jaw clenched and working back and forth as she struggled to contain herself. “You were always too much talk and not enough action, Alexandria,” she snapped, yanking her sword from its sheath.

“Then let us put words to rest and see actions end this, Nia,” Lexa growled, pulling her own sword from its case and giving it a dazzling flourish before throwing the scabbard into the snow.

Lexa stepped forward, squaring her stance as she approached Nia imposingly, pushing away any hint of hesitation in her movements, exuding all confidence and not a trace of fear or doubt. The same could not be said for the Ice Queen who shifted back on her heels defensively and held her sword out in front of her at arms length the moment the Commander neared, putting as much distance between herself and her sword as possible as if avoiding the plague. All the arrogance and anger fled from Nia's features, revealing the truth behind her mask; she was terrified of Lexa. Clarke almost pitied her, but pushed the misplaced emotion aside as the scent of burning bodies wafted towards her and she had to cough to keep from gagging on it.

The Commander circled around to the right, slowly and deliberately as to put intentional fear into her trembling prey as Nia immediately stepped in the opposite direction, keeping space between them and delaying the inevitable. Every step Lexa took to advance, Nia moved to counteract as if keeping an invisible barrier between them that she would not allow Lexa to cross. Clarke could not tell if the Commander was growing irritated or if she was amused by the obvious trepidation in Nia's actions, keeping all emotion from her face. Though her demeanor was impassive, Clarke could always read the truth in her eyes and as she shifted, the setting sun reflected dimly off the forest green in them looking as if the trees were blazing with fire, and Clarke could see that she was simply disgusted.

Lexa feigned a lunge forward and Nia quickly jumped back, gripping her sword with two hands in front of her as if to ward off some perverse version of evil. "It amuses me that you accuse me of talking without action, yet when I move to act, you flee, Nia," Lexa spoke, her tone was calm but dripping with disdain and loud enough for all to hear. "Stop this cowardice and face your fate."

The unsettled crowd around them erupted in murmurs and shouts of agreement and Nia's wild gaze darted around, seething glares at anyone who dared speak out against her and backing right up to the edge of the ring of spectators. Her vice grip on her sword changed slightly, tightening to the point where her knuckles were whiter than the snow at her feet as she took a timid step forward, unable to retreat any further. With nowhere left to run and Lexa closing in, she lashed out, letting out an anguished scream that pierced Clarke's ears as she drove forward. Her technique was sloppy and slow, revealing her move to anyone with eyes, and Lexa simply stepped out of the way, parrying the strike as Nia stumbled past her. The Commander whirled around and planted a heavy boot to the Ice Queen's lower back, sending her sprawling forward onto her knees.

Nia scrambled frantically, tripping on the snow and ice beneath her and loosing her footing once before regaining her balance and spinning back towards Lexa with her sword raised out in front of her defensively. Quiet chuckles echoed through the crowd at the pathetic display and Clarke couldn't help the sly grin that pulled at her own features, giving Aden's hand a quick squeeze. Lexa's impassive facade quickly gave way to what she was really feeling, and even beneath the thick black mask of war paint, Clarke could see the anger that boiled in her cheeks and trembled against her clenched jaw.

"When was the last time you held a sword, Nia?" Lexa growled. "Or have you always allowed others to fight and die in your place as you did your son?" she shouted, unsettled and burning at the very thought of it.

The crowd was getting riled up, shouting their distaste and displeasure, and Clarke glanced around to see several Ice Nation warriors voicing their own anger at their queen. Nia was startled at the sudden change in the Commander, her face revealing the wide array of terrified emotions that were coursing through her body as her ice blue eyes dashed about, searching for a way out. When she saw her own people nodding in agreement and slowly chanting along with the crowd, cold realization dawned upon her, and the fear in her gaze turned to fury as it honed in on Lexa; the cause of her current predicament. She let out a long shaky breath, visible in the frigid evening air as she straightened her spine and adjusted her stance; attempting to conserve whatever pride she had left.

Nia charged again, a bit of composure regained in her efforts as she lunged forward and slashed her sword at Lexa in a long downward arching strike that appeared to be slightly more skilled than the last. But her swordsmanship far paled in comparison to Lexa who held her weapon in a single hand and easily batted the strike away, throwing Nia off balance once more. The Ice Queen stumbled, but did not lose her footing, instead whirling around and swiping out at Lexa immediately who simply stepped back to avoid the attack, her reflexes sharpened and on point from years of training. Nia growled in frustration, rage spewing behind her gritted teeth as her control began to rapidly unravel.

Lexa sat back, patiently waiting for Nia's attack as if toying with her and making no effort to shift to offense. The calm way that Lexa held her shoulders and the ease at which she turned away the Ice Queen's attacks drove Nia to near insanity, and she let out another feral growl as she rushed towards Lexa again, this time with as much speed and force as she could muster behind her attack. Instead of side stepping or deflecting the blow, Lexa stood her ground, holding up her block with two hands as Nia bore down on her sword with all her weight, both of their weapons locked in place and pushing against each other. Lexa reacted quickly, sliding her blade out from beneath Nia's and sidestepping as her sword sank down in the snow, leaving the Ice Queen wide open for the heavy loaded fist that Lexa cracked across her chin.

Nia staggered backwards, clasping her blade in one hand while the other shot up to wipe away the crimson blood that was flowing from her mouth and staining the ground at her feet. Her eyes were distant, as if Lexa had punched the sense right out of her and she shook her head, blinking a few times to ward off the dizziness that crowded her vision. She glanced around wildly, scanning the crowd as if searching for anyone who would aid her, but her search ceased the moment her gaze landed on Clarke and Aden. Clarke watched the way her features transformed from wild and panicked to cold and calculating as if settling on a murderous plan and a cruel grin pulled up at the corner of her bloodied mouth. Clarke reached down for the gun at her belt, prepared to use it if Nia dared to make a move for herself or Aden, corralling the already wounded boy behind her. Nia took a step forward, but before she could get any closer, Lexa was moving like a flash of lightening, squaring off and putting herself between Nia and the two people she cared for most.

The Ice Queen spat her distaste mixed with her own blood into the snow, her shoulders rigid with fury that she could no longer contain. She dashed forward, sword raised in front of her as if aiming to cleave Lexa's head from her shoulders, her technique rudimentary and governed by her emotions rather than skill. Lexa easily parried the blow as Nia's blade crashed into her own, sliding the lethal edge down to the hilt and twisting sharply, wrenching the sword from the Ice Queen's grasp and sending it flying where it landed in the snow thirty feet away. Lexa moved with her momentum, spinning past Nia and backing slightly away to put space between herself and her now defenseless opponent. Clarke wondered what she was waiting for and why she just wouldn't end it now that Nia was weaponless, but her answer came a moment later.

With her sword far out of reach, Nia searched around frantically, her eyes wide in fear beneath the rigid scars of her clan as she scoured for anything that she could fight with. Realizing that she was out of options, she turned towards the crowd, her cheeks flushing red in fear and anger. "Don't just stand there!" she shouted at the nearest Ice Nation warrior. "Attack! Attack them all!" she wailed, her voice cracking with near insanity. "I am your queen! Defend me!"

Not a single soul even twitched to follow her orders, and Clarke watched as the faces of the people changed from shock to burning fury, seething in their eyes and the flare of their nostrils, smoldering in gritted teeth and clenched jaws. Their anger was only fueled to near exploding when Lexa spoke, her words ringing out loudly over the masses. "Is this the type of leader you wish to serve?" she questioned, commanding the attention of anyone who could hear her. "She would rather sacrifice the lives of everyone here than fight her own battle! There is no strength in that...I see only a coward!" Lexa snarled, tossing her own sword into the snow at Nia's feet. "You ask them to defend you, but I say pick up the sword and defend yourself, Nia. Why should they die in your place if you are not willing to do the same for them?"

The crowd burst into loud agreement, shouting insults and chanting Lexa's name, and Nia's frozen blue eyes went wide when she realized that not even her own people would come to her aid in this. "I would do the same!" she hollered, trying to be heard over the roar of people but her voice was small and scared and didn't quite carry. "I stopped the battle so that no more people would have to die!" she tried again, lacking conviction and not fooling anyone.

Lexa held up a single hand, and instantly the crazed crowd fell silent, lending further illustration to the respect and admiration that they had for her, and Clarke felt a burst of pride warm her from her chest to her toes. "You agreed to the ceasefire because I gave you no choice," Lexa said, the people now so quiet that she could speak at a normal volume and still be heard by all. "But, I am giving you a choice now. Pick up the sword and die with what honor you have left, or die like the defenseless coward you are. The decision is yours."

Nia stared at her a moment, the tension so thick in the air that it was practically tangible, and then she slowly bent down, reaching for the sword at her feet. She knelt there, examining it for a moment as if questioning its purpose, but then the shot up, dashing towards Lexa with fury etched across her contorted features. She aimed to catch the Commander off guard who had freely given her own weapon to the enemy, but Lexa was ready, quickly sidestepping out of the way of Nia's oncoming attack. She held her hands clasped behind her back, moving and dodging around Nia's strikes so rapidly that it almost appeared as if she were made of nothing more than air, her emerald green eyes focused in concentration. Clarke thought that she would be panicked at seeing Lexa on her heels, without a weapon and ducking out of the way of Nia's wild attacks, but she was surprised at the unmistakable sense of calmness that kept her fear at bay. She knew that Lexa was in complete control, making a show out of proving her point to her people, winning them over to her side, rather than just ending the Ice Queen without mercy, and it was clear that her tactics had worked as the crowd took up chanting her name once more.

Lexa weaved out of the way of another strike, dancing her way effortlessly towards the rim of the circle while Nia's desperate attacks grew more and more frantic. Lexa held out her empty hand to the nearest warrior and he readily passed over his spear, giving the Commander a weapon once more. She took the spear and twirled it about in front of her in a showy flourish as she spun the wooden shaft over her shoulders and behind her back before pointing it in Nia's direction. Clarke could tell by the fire that burned in her eyes and the coiled nature of her posture that she was done playing around.

She immediately went on the attack, stepping forward on her right foot and swinging the tip of the spear towards her mark as Nia just barely managed to get her sword up in time to block. Lexa didn't hesitate before launching in to her next attack, jabbing her weapon forward in quick, precise strikes that had Nia retreating, backing up and scurrying out of the way of the attacks that she lacked the skill to defend. Lexa continued on, spinning the spear behind her back and twirling it overhead as she dropped to a knee and shot the shaft out in front of her, wrenching the Ice Queen's legs from under her and sending her crashing to her back in the snow. The Commander was on her feet again immediately, leaning over Nia with the tip of her spear poised to deliver the killing blow. Nia rolled over and scrambled backwards, retreating away as quickly as she could but lacking the strength and sense to pull herself up, so instead she crawled.

"Get up!" Lexa shouted. "Stand and fight!"

Nia shook her head like a child cowering in fear, retreating until she backed into the knees of a warrior behind her. Clarke recognized the man as the Ice Nation general who had taken charge of Nia's army in her stead. He stood staring down at his trembling queen with shame and displeasure in his eyes as he reached down and hauled her to her feet, giving her a slight nudge towards where Lexa was waiting. Nia whirled around on him with hatred molded into her wild features, shocked at the treachery of her own people turning on her and offering her up as sacrifice.

"Traitor!" she shouted in his face, spewing blood and spit. "You're all traitors and you will all be executed for treason!"

"No, Nia," Lexa answered her accusations, cutting her off before she could finish her rant. "You are the only one that will die here tonight."

With that promise, Lexa shifted her grip on the spear in her hand, spinning it so that she held it like a javelin. She didn't hesitate as she stepped forward and hurled it with all the strength in her body, sending it flying towards Nia with unwavering purpose. The weapon practically whistled as it sliced through the air, sinking into its target with such force that it protruded out her back as she staggered beneath the momentum of it. Nia's eyes went wide in shock, dropping Lexa's sword to the ground at her feet as her hands came up to grasp uselessly at the spear jutting from her chest. She sunk to her knees as her energy fled from her body, crimson red blood already seeping through her grey overcoat and dribbling down her chin in a steady stream. Clarke watched as the last of the life faded from her eyes, disappearing as they rolled back into her head and her limp body slumped forward, falling with an audible _thud_ into the waiting white snow.

A deafening silence settled over them for what felt like ages as Lexa stared at her deceased target, shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of her heavy breathing that floated away in front of her in wispy white clouds. The Commander slowly stood, straightening her spine and shoulders as her eyes wandered up from the body of her enemy to the crowd that now looked towards her with baited breath. Not a single person spoke, but slowly in unison, the entire crowd began to kneel, humbling themselves before Lexa with heads bowed in a show of complete respect. Clarke was the only one that remained standing, too captivated to move, watching as even Abby, Kane and the rest of _Skaikru_ bowed, and the remains of the Ice Nation army quickly followed. Her eyes met Lexa’s, the earth meeting the stars, seeing in them the endless depth of which she loved her people and the unabated relief that flooded over her features and pooled behind her eyes with unshed tears. Clarke knew she would not let them fall, but she was the only one not bowed that would have seen them anyway.

Lexa offered her a small, solemn, smile with a tenderness that was so out of place in that moment, one that was reserved for the privacy of their own room rather than the middle of a ruined battlefield, yet it felt completely right nonetheless. Her gaze never strayed from Clarke’s as she spoke. “Now, we may finally have our peace.”  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The journey back to Polis went by in a blur, leaving well before the Ice Queen’s body was even cold. Lexa had commanded that Indra and the majority of the _Trikru_ army stay behind to help Arkadia rebuild, and the _Skaikru_ council had willingly agreed although Abby and Kane’s presence was required in Polis. When they finally reached the walls, the protective barrier around the place that Clarke had come to know as home, the city was not as they left it. The gates had been shut to outsiders when the Coalition fell, placing the entire city on lockdown to protect its citizens in the event of an attack, and now as they wandered through the streets, they were more empty than Clarke had ever seen them. There were no vendors calling their wears, no blacksmiths creating weapons from scratch metal, no children running about on adventures through the narrow ally ways, there wasn’t even the tantalizing scent of cooking meat that usually hung thick in the air. Still, even without all the unique details that made Polis the amazing cultural achievement that it was, it still felt like home, and Clarke knew that the streets would soon be bustling once again.

Their return trip had taken a little less than a day, and the sun was hanging high in the late afternoon sky, just barely beginning its slow dip towards the west. It had not snowed that day and the sun, though offering little warmth, had managed to fight away the clouds, casting the welcomed illusion of heat nonetheless. They made their way through the vacant roads and straight to the Polis tower, climbing the long ascent all the way to the top where a gathering of leaders was waiting for their arrival. Those who had not been present at the battlefield, the clans who had abstained from the war, stood gathered in small groups as those who had traveled back to Polis with the Commander slowly filtered in.

The _Skaikru_ council was the last to file in, consisting of Clarke, Kane and Abby, making their way into the familiar throne room that had been the scene of the coup that started it all. The hall glowed with candles hanging from the chandelier and fire basins spread throughout the floor, but the flames did very little to heat the air. The atmosphere itself was cold and buzzing with fear rather than excitement as they stood about, waiting for Lexa to make her entrance. Clarke could read the trepidation and worry on the faces of those who had not fought by the Coalition’s side and those who had fought with Ice Nation, and she could tell that many of them were fighting the urge to flee from whatever punishment they felt they deserved.

When Lexa did enter, she had changed into her daunting shoulder armor and luminescent red cape that commanded almost as much attention as the woman who wore them. Her forest green gaze was trained forward, revealing no emotion as she whisked down the center of the carpet towards her waiting throne, not bothering to scan over the gathering around her. Her expression was impassive, but Clarke could see the way her shoulders and chest were rigid, as if she was holding her breath in anticipation for what was to come. Her hair flowed in long loose braids down her shoulders and chest, and her face was absent of the black mask of war paint that lent a certain fierceness to her appearance, instead replaced by the round cog of the Coalition between her eyes as prominent as a crown that she would never wear. When she reached the altar, she did not sit in her throne, but instead turned towards the waiting crowd of leaders, standing imposingly with her hands behind her back as she finally let her eyes wander, resting briefly on Clarke before moving on. 

Her presence demanded attention, but there was something missing from the room that made it feel empty even though it was filled with people, and Clarke realized that it was the Flamekeeper that was absent; his presence normally so dominant at Lexa’s side now replaced by an empty void. The doors swung open once more and Clarke nearly jumped, startled from her daze as if her thoughts of Titus had conjured him back into existence, but when she turned towards the door, it was a different face she saw. Aden limped heavily into the room on his injured leg, clad in his black novitiate robes with his arm still snug in its sling and the bandage around his head still masking the wound that nearly took his life, yet he appeared strong and unnerved nonetheless. He made his way towards the throne, coming to a stop just beside Lexa and turning to face the crowd, taking up the spot where Titus once stood as if it had always been his duty.

It was then that Lexa finally spoke, her voice loud and echoing off the high ceiling above them. “Leaders, ambassadors, generals, brothers and sisters of the _thirteen_ clans,” she began, capturing the attention of all. “We gather here in this hall today to discuss a monumental occasion. We are here, on the precipice of change, to mark the end of an era and the start of a new one. For a hundred years, our people have known nothing but war; for a hundred years, we have fought and died fighting beside each other and against each other; for a hundred years we have focused on merely surviving, and have long since forgotten how to live…” she let her words trail off, allowing a pause that was so silent Clarke could practically hear the heartbeats of those around her. “But today, for the first time in a century, we find ourselves at a crossroads. Today, we find ourselves faced with a decision; we can continue how we were, how we have always been, struggling for power and killing each other for reasons that have long been forgotten, or we can choose a different road. We can lay our weapons down and walk hand and hand into a better future; a future in which our people do not live in the shadow of death, a future in which blood does not demand blood and violence does not always have to answer violence; a future in which we live in peace, side by side, where war is a distant memory and amity is a virtue worth preserving. With the Ice Queen dead, there are no more quarrels or vendettas keeping us from this future, and peace is ours for the taking should we only reach out and grab it. Brothers and sisters, the decision is yours.”

It was silent for a moment as the ambassadors and clan leaders exchanged questioning glances and arched brows, but it was the Ice Nation general who had taken over in Nia’s stead that was the first to speak. “What of those who stood against you in battle or did not make a stand at all?” he questioned, his voice echoing the thoughts of several others. “Are we to meet the same fate as Nia?”

Lexa stared at the man for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as she considered her words carefully. “If we are to have peace, my brother,” she said. “Then let this be the first day in which blood must not have blood. You were doing your duty to your people, and I will not condemn you for that.”

The room burst into excited whispers as relief fell over the faces of those who had turned their backs on their Commander. An array of emotions flickered across the features of the Ice Nation general even as he tried to keep them at bay, but there was pride and hope in his voice when he spoke. “Then let _Azgeda_ be the first clan to offer you its support in your vision for the future, Commander,” he said, dropping to a knee. “Let peace be our lasting legacy.”

Slowly, one by one, the other leaders offered their support and fell to their knee in a bow of allegiance and loyalty until Clarke and Luna were the only ones left standing. “And what of my people?” Luna asked though Clarke was sure that she already knew the answer. “Will you keep your word to me?”

Lexa nodded once, without hesitation. “I will lift the banishment on your people’s heads, and permit _Floukru_ to return to shore to either build your villages on land or return to your own clans should they accept you,” she said, upholding her promise that she had made to Luna what felt like years ago. “As for you, Luna,” she continued on. “I would like for you to take up the robes of the _Fleimkepa_ and serve as councilor and Flamekeeper in Titus’s stead. You may be permitted to lead your people still, but I would like you by my side as we move towards this era of peace. Who better to offer guidance on matters of peace than the leader of a people who achieved pacifism long ago?”

Luna blinked a couple of times as if stunned by the offer, chasing away the tears that crowded behind her deep brown eyes and her voice was confident when she spoke. “I would be honored to perform this duty for you, Heda,” she said. “It will be an honor to stand where he stood; at your side.”

The Commander let a soft smile play over her features that glowed all the way in the green of her eyes as Luna bent to a knee before her. Lexa’s gaze finally landed on Clarke, and the ease and relief in her expression quickly gave way to unhindered reverence as if staring down at the face of a goddess. “And what does _Skaikru_ have to say, Clarke?” she asked, her tone gentle and almost playful.

Clarke stared up at her, feeling a well of pride build in her chest as a wave of butterflies took flight and fluttered against her pounding heart. She felt the eyes of every leader in the room on her, but in that moment, the only person she saw was Lexa, staring back at her with enough love and admiration to last a lifetime. She had a smile on her face that she couldn’t hide when she lowered herself to both knees and looked up at the woman she wanted to give her life to. “I swear fealty to you, _Leksa Kom Trikru_ ,” she spoke, watching the grin grow wider on the Commander’s face. “I vow to treat your needs as my own, and your people as my people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I sort of made this creative decision to make Nia the epitome of someone who lets others fight their battles, and I really wanted to illustrate that going in to her fight with Lexa. I wanted the scene to contrast the differences between the two as leaders; on the one hand, we have Lexa who is this fierce, wise, badass warrior that lives and breathes for her people, while on the other hand, we have Nia who likes to hide behind her giant army and really has no leadership skills whatsoever aside from intimidation, so I wanted it to be blatantly obvious in their fight. And in true Alex fashion, I tied up the ending with some lines that we all love, except this time it was Clarke swearing her fealty (which I personally would have liked to see at some point in the show), and the fact that she did it in front of everyone just made it this sort of grand gesture. The last part of this fic will be brief and sweet and to the point, so let's get to it.
> 
> -Alex


	18. Part Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just wanted to thank everyone who devoted their time and energy into reading this story and all of those who have supported me with comments and kudos and compliments from the start. It's been such a long journey, and honestly I am so happy that I have gotten the chance to share my vision with you all, and I'm honored that you've allowed me to do so (I know that you can stop reading at any time). Lexa was a character unlike any other on television, and the fact that you're reading this now means that you loved her and Clexa as much as I do, and I truly hope that I have given you something better to remember them by than what we were given on the show. Maybe one day in the future, our fiction won't have to be the only source of representation that we deserve, and I will hold out hope until then. I hope you guys do too. Thank you again for all the love and support.
> 
> -Alex

Clarke knew that she was dreaming. She knew that there was absolutely no way that she was standing in front of the heavy metal door at Mount Weather because Mount Weather no longer existed. She also knew that no light had exuded from that tunnel since the night she pulled that lever, yet there it was, bright blinding white light that was somehow harsh but also soft at the same time. She hovered in front of the entrance, waiting for…someone, but she didn’t know who. She didn’t feel the same overwhelming sense of dread and self-loathing that had once consumed her standing before this very same door, but instead all she felt was warmth and peace as if all the demons that haunted her from within the mountain had been finally laid to rest.

She took a timid step back when the metal hatch in front of her began to swing open, pushing outward on its hinges as someone emerged from within. Her heart soared at the sight of the one person that she missed most in this world, and her happiness was echoed by the bright smile that spread over Jake Griffin’s face when he came into view. He was dressed in simple blue jeans and a white t-shirt, free of stains and moth-eaten holes, and his blue eyes, the same eyes as his daughter, were radiating warmth and pride beneath a messy fray of dirty-blonde hair. He held out his arms, beckoning her forward, and Clarke didn’t hesitate, running at full speed and throwing herself into Jake’s waiting frame.

He lifted her off the ground, spinning in a few fast circles before setting her back down on her feet. He felt so real in her arms, so solid and warm and as she pressed her head against his chest, she could hear the sound of his heart beating as if he was actually there. She lifted her head to speak, but her words got lost somewhere in her throat as two more figures stepped into view from the glowing bright light of the tunnel behind her father. Her surprise was mingled with a sense of elation and a slight tinge of regret at the sight of both Anya and Titus, wearing slight smiles that they had never worn in life, but looked entirely at home on their faces in death.

Anya was dressed in the outfit that she had worn the first time Clarke had ever met her, her black and grey overcoat flowing down to her ankles and woven shut in intricate ties and clasps across her chest and waist. Her blonde hair, black at the roots, flowed down past her shoulders and her impossibly high cheekbones were free of war paint. She had her hands folded behind her back, watching the exchange carefully with high shoulders and a rigid spine that reminded Clarke so much of Lexa. Titus stood beside her, clad in the familiar grey robes that he always wore, though the age and lines of worry that had etched themselves on his face in the past few months had faded away. He looked more at peace now than Clarke had ever seen him, and he stared at her with pride in his eyes as if looking at one of his own novitiates.

“Hello, Clarke,” he spoke, his tongue slithering over the letters of her name the same way that it always had.

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo,” Jake whispered as he eased his grip on her and pulled slightly away.

Clarke stared at them for a moment, letting her eyes bounce from face to face as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Dad?” she asked. “Titus? Anya? What are you guys doing here?”

“This is the place where it all began, Clarke,” Anya said, her voice as strong and commanding as Clarke remembered it, clearly the inspiration behind the way Lexa held herself.

“It would only be fitting that this should be the place where it all ends too,” Titus added.

“But why here? Why Mount Weather?” Clarke questioned, again glancing over at the hatch that led deep into the Mountain, no longer conjuring the feelings of guilt and regret that it once summoned from within her.

Jake shrugged and moved to stand beside the other two. “It’s your dream, kid,” he replied. “Maybe this is your subconscious way of letting you finally forgive yourself for all the things that happened here and in the time since you’ve been on the ground.”

Clarke nodded, feeling that there might be truth in that statement. Mount Weather was the place that held her deepest fears and haunted her worst nightmares, yet she had summoned the three people that meant the most to her and Lexa from within its depths. Maybe she no longer associated dark and brutal death with this place, or maybe she no longer associated death with darkness and pain. Maybe these three people that she had lost to death represented strength, wisdom and love that she had lost sight of after her actions at Mount Weather, but had been returned to her over the past few months. Lexa had healed her, had taught her how to cope with the things she’d done and the decisions she had made, and had showed her what it meant to be truly loved, and that in turn had brought her peace. The same peace that she and the Commander had now brought to the clans, and even as she thought about the words, she knew they were true; she was healed.

“You’ve done well, Clarke,” Titus said, offering her a small smile. “You and Alexandria both.”

“Your work isn’t done though,” Anya interjected. “These next few years will be crucial in maintaining the peace that you have established. You ended a war that began a hundred years ago, it will take more than a single battle and a moving speech to keep it at bay,” she cautioned.

Clarke nodded her understanding. She knew in the back of her mind that the Grounder culture, which had been built on violence and vengeance, would not change over night. There would be those who resisted and there would be those who still thirsted for power, but if they worked together they could achieve the level of cooperation and compromise that Clarke was sure they were capable of. Blood must not have blood was not a familiar concept, and implementing it would not be easy. The Grounders had always done things a certain way, had always answered violence with more violence, and it would be easier to fall back into the old ways rather than struggle to come up with new ones, but she had faith in Lexa and her leadership. She knew the road ahead was a long one, but it was one that she was willing to take.

“But for now, enjoy the peace that you worked so hard for. Forgive yourself for the things you’ve done and move forward, kid. There will always be more work to do in the morning,” Jake said, his smile reaching the creases around his warm eyes.

“I will, Dad,” Clarke assured him, wanting to reach out and pull him in for another hug but realizing that the three ghosts were already moving away.

“Tell Lexa that we’re proud of her,” Anya called, her form fading back into the white light from which she had emerged.

“And remember that love is not always weakness, Clarke,” Titus said, offering a nod before slowly fading away.

Jake was the last to go, staring at his daughter with overwhelming pride and love in his blue eyes. She wanted to go to him, to beg him not to leave, but her mind was already pulling on the threads of consciousness, beckoning her back into the world of the living. “May we meet again, kiddo,” he said, his voice echoing in her ears as the last of her dream faded away.

For the first time in months, Clarke actually woke from a dream with dry eyes and feeling rested rather than cowering in fear from the visions that plagued her sleeping hours. She didn’t feel panic or the pain of longing, but instead she felt warmth, satisfaction even, and confidence that for the moment, all was well. She reached over, hands skimming beneath the heavy fur duvet in search of the warm body that she had grown so accustomed to falling asleep beside, but found the spot empty. She was alone, the bed beside her still warm and indented from where Lexa had slept, but the Commander was nowhere to be found. Clarke sat up, eyes straining through the darkness to look out the window, seeing the sky fading from a deep black to a lighter shade of purple and blue, and she instantly knew where Lexa had wandered off to.

She pulled herself from beneath the blankets, already missing the heat they provided as she stumbled to the wardrobe at the foot of the bed and pulled on a heavy overcoat. She left her feet bare, feeling the cold tile beneath her soles as she tip-toed towards the door and down the hallway, careful not to wake her mother and Kane who were sleeping in the room she once called her own but had long since abandoned in favor of staying with Lexa. The door at the end of the hallway was propped open, as if waiting for her, and she pushed through it, climbing towards the top of the tower and out into the bitter morning air.

The Polis flame still burned, high atop the tower, casting intense heat against Clarke’s face and bouncing back and forth in the whipping breeze. It was a bitter cold winter morning, but with the flame at her back, Clarke hardly even felt it, enjoying the way the frozen wind dashed against her cheeks in comparison to the warmth of the fire. Lexa stood at the railing, staring out over her city as the sky in the west grew ever-brighter with the approaching dawn. She hadn’t yet dressed for the day, but instead had a heavy blanket wrapped over her shoulders, her wild brown hair blowing in the wind down her back. Clarke watched her for a moment, mesmerized by the way the glow of the fire flicked across her flawless skin and sharp jawline, and how her emerald eyes looked into the distance with love and humble respect.

Lexa wasn’t startled by Clarke’s approach, but instead seemed to have been expecting it, opening the blanket she had around her shoulders and wrapping Clarke in her arms. Clarke stood in front of her with her back pressed tightly to the Commander’s chest, enjoying the way Lexa’s muscles tightened around her and the way her heart beat steadily against her back. Clarke shivered once, closing her eyes and wishing that they could stay like that forever, tangled up in each other with the world at their feet and endless possibilities stretched out before them. Lexa sighed, hot and content in her ear as she pressed a gentle kiss to Clarke’s cheek, a kiss that claimed Clarke as her own and promised to never let her go.

“What happens now?” Clarke rasped, her voice hoarse from the disuse of a peaceful night’s sleep.

Lexa hummed in thought for a moment. “Now we have our peace, Clarke,” she replied as if it were the simplest answer in the world. “It will not be easy. My people cannot simply change a hundred years of tradition over night, but we will make it work. They will learn that life is about more than just surviving. You are the one who taught me that.”

Clarke nodded against her chest, feeling the sleepy grin that pulled at her own cheeks. “And what does the future hold for the Commander?” she questioned.

“The Commander’s duty is never done, Clarke,” Lexa mused. “But when Aden comes of age, I will pass the Flame onto him so that he may lead in my stead. Then I will owe nothing more to my people, and you and I can have our future. Together.”

“Together,” Clarke repeated, melting with the way the word tasted on her tongue. She sucked in a deep breath full of morning air mixed with the scent of smoke and candles that was so uniquely Lexa and sunk further into her arms. “Anya and Titus would be proud of you,” she said softly, remembering the last traces of her dream.

She felt it when Lexa smiled against her hair, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her head. “I love you, Clarke,” she whispered in her ear, her tongue clicking over the –k in the way that sent warmth flooding through Clarke’s entire body.

“I love you too, Lex,” Clarke whispered, feeling without doubt that forever was laced in her words.

They stood there in silence as the sun slowly crept over the horizon, drowning the world in different shades of pink and orange. The light surged over the trees in the distance, bringing them to life in the bitter winter morning before landing on the city at their feet. The sight was enough to take her breath away and she did not want to taint the moment with words, yet she found herself speaking anyway. “So, Commander,” she said, feeling a slight smile tug once more at her lips. “Do you prefer the dawn or the dusk?” she asked, echoing the question that Lexa had asked her in that very same spot long ago.

The Commander let out a soft, amused sigh behind her and her tone was hushed when she answered. “I have always preferred the dawn to the dusk,” she whispered. “There is hope in the dawning of a new day, Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I cried when I wrote this. I'm crying right now as I post this. This has been such a long and powerful journey and I've given so much time and thought into creating this work of fiction; it's sort of a bittersweet feeling to see it finally coming to an end. I want you guys to know that I left the ending the way that I did to create room for possible future projects, and I do have a sequel in mind for some more canon-divergent adventure. I also have quite a few ideas for some different AU's that I've been toying around with, so you will definitely be hearing from me again in the future and I hope that you'll keep an eye out for some of my later work down the line. If anyone out there wants to collaborate on a story, I would love to hear from you and share some thoughts and ideas and hopefully work together on something because, admittedly, this 230k word monster was an endeavor-and-a-half to write and I won't have the time to dedicate to something as long as this in the future. Find me @LexAlexAU on twitter and send me a message, my DM's are always open. Again, thank you so much for all your constant support and I really hope that you guys enjoyed Ai Laik Heda as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> -Alex


	19. Chapter 19

Hello, everyone! I know it's been a while, but for those of you who have me bookmarked on this story, I just wanted to let you know that I have started to post a new story: Blood (Must Have Blood). It's an alternate universe fic; a mixture between The 100 universe and the Hunger Games. If you liked this story, go check that one out too and let me know what you think! Thank you for continuing to be as dedicated to keeping Clexa alive as I am, as it is the readers who make the writers want to continue to tell their stories.

-Alex


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